


American Undead

by Mourningstar (skinsuit)



Category: No Fandom, Original Work, Urban Fantasy - Fandom, Vampires - Fandom
Genre: Dramedy, Horror, Multi, Original Fiction, Past Sexual Abuse, TW: Drugs, TW: Prositution, TW: Violence, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, Vampirism, historical fiction - Freeform, vampire fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 01:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/Mourningstar
Summary: Most vampire novels center around glamorous, rich, old, globe trotting blood suckers. This is not most vampire novels. In a world where vampires are out to the public and can buy animal blood at the local convenience store. Al is a little shy of century year. Turned into a vampire at 16, he looks 14. He works  nights as cashier at a big-box store. And goes home to a basement apartment he shares with a one eared cat named Pesky. He wants the quiet life, with his cat and his carton of re-heated cow blood. He’s just begun his memoirs and thinks his bloody past is behind him. When it comes back to haunt in the form of Michel, a man he turned in Paris 1953. Michel, a Romani and now vampire had been made so he could get revenge on the Nazis who killed his family in a concentration camp. Until he killed the wrong Nazi that is. Between Michel and the mysterious Abby, a girl mage who came to his door in the form of a wounded stray cat. Al now has his plate full. Can he trust Sky, spendthrift Master vampire of the area to help him  with problems?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The WordSmithy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+WordSmithy).



 

It’s been a few years since the whole vampire community drew back the curtain and revealed it’s self to humans. Many other stiffs have come out with tell all memoirs. I figured why not. I’m as dead as the rest, here I am slaving away at the night shift of a Big box store. I can’t tell my co-workers or boss of course. I know the vamp lobby is working on making it illegal to discriminate against us. But  it won’t be for a while, yeah I know I got eternity. But I still got nothing but half a high school education, a baby face and low place on vampire totem pole.   
This will keep me in warm cow blood for while, which thanks to us coming out of coffin is what I pick up at the next town over supermarket. 

So I figured I’d tell you about myself. I’m actually not that old, probably a contemporary of your grandpa. Well great- grandpa. I’m 16 going on 91.  
I look fourteen I have short wavy brown hair, blue eyes, a face that never lost it’s baby softness, not quite hard enough to be a man yet and I'm not very tall, not short either.

I was named after my father Alwin. He was a good guy, worked at the local pottery factory, he tried to be a good father, sober, good christian but he always had the blues and nightmares. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night, and find him up sitting at the kitchen table looking shaken and pale. Took care of those blues and nightmares one Sunday with the service pistol he used in the great war, in the shed out back. He left a note. My Mom, me, my brother Tom and baby sis Dora were all left alone with the scandal.   
 After the funeral we moved away to another town. Mom got a job as clerk in the post office. When I was ten she married a mailman and lay minister of the Baptist church Sherman Pelley. He was balding with wire rim glasses and a square face. He had thin lips and his face would get white when he was angry.

I wondered if my Mom loved Mr. Pelley or if she just married because it was hard being a single woman with three kids to feed. I never liked him. He was good to Tom and my sister Dora, but they didn’t remember Dad to well. And it’s easy to be  nice to little kids just give them some peppermints, jacks and a doll and they love you. He read them illustrated Bible stories. I never was to keen on the Bible stories. I read anything I could get my hands on from comics and pulp to the classics. Mr. Pelley said it was worldly and trash. I liked jazz records and he’d go on how it was the devil’s music made by savages. Mom used to like jazz but now all the jazz we had was under my bed, I made sure Tom, who shared my room, kept quiet about it with the typical big brother threats.  
Mr. Pelley thought I was an ungrateful layabout. I went to school at all day and then I came home and I did all the chores around the house weekdays and weekends. He gave no time to see my friends or see  the movies go to dances or the malt shop. That old man just rode me all day and all night.

I was fifteen when I finally snapped. I’d snuck out with my friend Robbie, his girl Millie and her sister Hazel. We went to the soda fountain and then saw a movie. I thought I’d gotten home long after the folks were in bed. I took the key from under the matt and opened the door. They were they up. Mr. Pelley was in stripped pajamas, Mom in her dark hair in curlers and her robe.

He looked at me, face white as sheet of paper, thin lips tight and he was glaring. I looked  at  Mom, she just averted her eyes and seemed to shrink away from me.

“Look at you,” Mr. Pelley said. “Coming strolling in here, at all hours. What do you have to say for yourself, this time  Alwin?”

“Nothing.” I sighed. I was sick to death of his face and voice and his controlling ways.

His lips drew back in a snarl. “Nothing?! I won’t have that disrespect in my house. You go out doing, who knows what! Probably off drinking and dancing with lewd women!” He exclaimed.

“I wasn’t!” I said.

“Then what were you doing?” He asked.

“None of your beeswax!” I said.

“Don’t you get smart with me, boy!” He said. “If you paid attention in church you’d know that the one of the commandments is ‘Honor thy Mother and Father’.”

“You aren’t my real Father!” I shouted.

“Alwin really! Sherman has worked hard to provide a good home for us,” My Mom spoke up. “That’s no way to speak to him!”

“He’s not!” I said. “And he never gave me an inch since he married you.”

“I fed, clothed, put a roof over your head and tried to lead you Christ.” Mr. Pelley said. “This is how you thank me? You compare me to your Father? Your father was a selfish coward who couldn’t face the responsibility of being a real man!”

“Sherman!” My Mom exclaimed.

“What did you say about my Dad!?” I shouted at him.

“I’ll say it again, he was a selfish, sorry, coward.” Mr. Pelley said.

He was on his feet, he had taken off his glasses.

 

“Sherman, you didn’t know him. You shouldn’t say these things please...” My Mom was pleading.

“My Father fought in the war. He earned medals. While you were delivering you the mail at home. You chicken!” I said.

“I’ll show you who’s a chicken! You ungrateful punk!” He yelled.

I remember coming towards him. And he was coming at me. I don’t remember much next. We were fighting, I know that. I was punching him, he was punching me, at one one point his nose was bloody. I stared kicking and hitting and shouting. Then somehow my Mother got in between us. She was trying to stop us. And I hit her. It an accident. I stopped she was laying on the floor, there was cut on her scalp it was bleeding and she was looking at me with this hurt look in her eyes. Her dark hair spilling out of her curlers in disarray.

“Mom...” I said. “Are you alright?”

Mr. Pelley had stopped too. He looked at her.

“Clara...” He said there was tenderness in his voice.

She began to speak, clear her throat and say something but then I heard crying and running. My brother and sister. They came from the staircase. My brother Tom came pelting at me, hitting me like a sobbing angry  canon ball.

“You hurt Mom! You hurt Mom! I’m gonna kill you!” He screamed.

Dora ran to Mom of course. She was weeping.

I pushed Tom away. I walked away. I looked at them, huddled together, crying, mad. Mr. Pelley hovering them like a male wolf protecting his pack from a cruel hunter. My Mother sitting up, the bloody gash on her forehead, the wounded look in her eyes as she stared at me. My little brother Tom, for the first time his expression showing something other then undying love towards me. And Dora the fear in her eyes.

I’d see fear later and often but for much better reason.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“No.” Mr. Pelley  cleared his throat. “You aren’t forgiven. You can’t apologize this time Alwin. I don’t want you in my house anymore. Leave, get yourself a suitcase pack some clothes. Your Mother will give you some money, I know she loves you. Buy yourself a train ticket. You are no longer welcome here.”

 

That was the last time I saw my whole family together.


	2. Chapter 2

he train ticket took me as far next city. The money paid for a room at a boarding house food included, for three weeks. I looked for work the whole time. But a man I met in the boarding house, Tom, said we should head for California because there were jobs there, and it was green and warm. That turned out to be a mistake. After a long hard journey hopping trains, dodging railroad bulls and policemen. I found they didn't want people like me in California. And there were many more of us then there were jobs. Whole families we're there. Mom, Dad and the little kids all living in Shanytowns called Hoovervilles. The people of California treated us worse then dirt. They set the police on us to beat us and drive us away. Well, Tom got beat and thrown in jail. I was lucky, I escaped and decided head back east. I spent a year and half on the road going back and forth. I did whatever work, I could. I picked crops on farms in the upper midwest,I was a delivery boy in Colorado for a short time, I worked in a factory in Chicago as a scab during a strike, I dug ditches in the south, I worked as a handyman for whoever wanted simple repairs or yard work and I begged everywhere. I rode the rails and when that seemed to dangerous, I'd hitchhike or walk. I took up smoking because you could always start a conversation over a cigarette find out where the work was or what the lowdown on the town was. I drank too. However I never tried any marihuana cigarettes, because I'd read the propaganda they printed in the newspapers about pot. I mixed with all sorts: blacks, whites, men, women, the old and young. We we're all in the same boat.  
In St. Paul I lost my virginity to the wife of a traveling salesman. I was scared when she started out, but it went so fast. I was worried I'd knocked her up. She laughed at me. There were others too, a hobo girl named Kate who snuggled up next to me in a boxcar on a cold night. She was my age, dark with chapped lips and big brown eyes. She had disguised herself as a boy, but everyone knew her secret. But she got caught by the railroad bulls and packed off to a female's reformatory. I cried over her and the nights we spent together. 

On my way back east, I met Henry. I'd known men to come on to me before, but I wasn't a punker, a kid who exchanges sex for favors with old hobos. I could fight them off usually. But Henry was different he was smart, and funny, strong, he took care of me. He had side-ways smile and hair that kept falling in his eyes. He was a few years older then me. I fell for him. He for me. In the corners and darkness we loved each other. Even hiding it from the other hobos. He fell off the train and got killed. I didn’t cry, though I wanted it.   
I left that city and drifted further east.

I was living in New York City, in this flea ridden flophouse with a bunch of guys my age. We’d become pals more or less. However they annoyed me. They were whores. They always had money, while honest work was hard to find and I was getting fed up.  
There was Joe we called him ‘Spanish Joe’ from Texas. The oldest of us with dark good looks and pencil thin mustache, he must have been hispanic but we never talked about that.   
There was Steve Covey. Shrimpy guy, 15, drank. Raised in a Catholic orphanage. We called him Covey.

The last was Promise Tucker.  He had the longest, thinnest fingers and toes,I’ve seen on a person. And the largest, prettiest green  eyes I’d seen on a man and light brown skin. I think he was a bright mulatto or as they say now biracial trying to pass for white. I don’t think we would have cared if had told us.

Other then Covey who wouldn’t shut up about what scumbags and hypocrites the people at orphanage were. We didn’t talk about our past or our future. Anything really but that, just bullshit.  
We’d get some beer, or some booze a pack of cigarettes and talk on the stoop.

So one spring night I’d come back from a job I’d had sweeping the floor at some damned shoe factory. It was the last day and they’d hardly paid me enough for a meal at an automat and the trolley ride home. And there are my friends sitting on the stoop joking, smoking, passing a bottle of cheap liquor. So I’m standing there glaring at them.

Spanish Joe looked up at me and said: “Al, what’s wrong with you?”

“You guys!” I said. “You guys are always rolling in money and I don’t have any, it’s no fair." 

“Oh we do stuff to earn it,” Covey sighed. “Trust me Al, we do stuff you don’t want to know about.”

Tucker shook his head. “Al, you put in honest day’s work. It’s very admirable. But I suppose sometimes less honest work gets paid a bit more...”

“What’s that supposed mean?” I said.

 

Covey, Tucker and Spanish Joe looked at each other and laughed.

“Fine! It’s illegal. I’ve met people like that before.” I said.

“Al we’re punks, hustlers, whores.” Covey said.

“I know that, but it’s no fair, you get more dough for doing what you do, then I do from legal work.” I said. 

“Trust me, Al you don’t want to deal with the queers, one of them likes cutting you to get his jollies.” Said Covey.

“They aren’t all bad,” said Tucker. “When I first got here. There was a man... he was really kind to me, I think he cared about me. But his wife found out and I had to leave.”

“Bullshit,” Covey said. “Kindness what is kindness to monsters like them? They give  you candy and toys to keep you quiet when your a kid. Later it’s money. But it’s the same all over for men. I would have been off if I was an abortion.”

“Ah, well,” Spanish Joe said. “Women are no saints. This girl back were I’m from. She said she’d loved me. That she’d elope with me. Her father caught me with her in her bedroom. Then she starts screaming about rape. So I ended up here.”

There was a silence an uneasy pause. This was a not something we should started talking about. However, I’d just busted my ass all day. I sat down took a swig from the bottle.

“Look how bad is sucking dick exactly? And how much money do you make?” I said.

They laughed and laughed. And then they told me.

Now I wasn’t like them. I didn’t do it all the time, I couldn’t.   
The first time I had to kneel and in front of a John, let me tell you if hadn’t been drinking and if he wasn’t such a horrible pushy asshole that he was, I wouldn’t have made that five dollars. Which was very good money then.  
But I didn’t do it full time. I still had my day jobs whatever they happened to be.

But it was hustling, that earned me my immortality. And earned my friends their death. Spanish Joe, Covey, Tucker. If there is heaven. You went to it. You weren’t anything but dumb, unlucky, street kids. You had rough lives and you didn’t deserve what happened to you that night.  

 

It was a bitterly cold fall night. I was almost seventeen. Me and my friends were walking around our usual beat. I’d been fired from the docks, a month. Business had been slow. We were hunched over our cigarettes bracing against the cold. We were talking to each other, trying to keep ourselves amused. Covey had a flask, and we were passing back and forth. It had some kind of rotgut in it. The lights in windows of apartments seemed worlds away, places where people had: food, warmth and happiness. I had none of these. Just my friends, my miserable clothes, my cig, the rent for the flophouse was due tomorrow. The others were laughing and joking. When this car drove slowly down the block. It was a cream-colored rolls royce limousine. I was the first one who noticed it. We’d all seen it before driving around this part of town. We’d all said how odd it was a movie star’s car driving around the slums late at night. And then the car stopped right in the middle of the block. The back window rolled down. A pale woman’s hand came out. She was wearing an elegant golden bracelet, and she had long red-painted fingernails.

Tucker shuffled over to the window

“Darling,” said the woman in a smoky voice. “My husband and I are having a ‘party’. A private party. Darling we’d love it if you and your little friends would attend. All of you will be well paid for your trouble.”

The voice, of course, was an act.  
Later I learned. It was her best impression of Tallulah Bankhead.

Tucker looked over at us. He relayed what she had just said.

So some rich perverts wanted to have some fun with us for a night. Being indooors sounded good, the promise of being “well paid” also sounded very good.

So all of us went over to the car. The woman opened the door.   I had never seen anyone that beautiful before. Her dark brown, hair was perfectly done. She wore a white sleeveless evening gown and some kind of floral perfume that was amazing. She smiled at us. Glamour, desire and sin all wrapped into one. She had a bottle of champagne and cigarettes in a golden case. We drank the champagne and smoked the cigarettes. She didn’t say much. But we did. My friends excited by the drink talked crudely about what they’d do to her and her husband. I didn’t say much myself. I knew this wasn’t the way that you went about it with people like this.  
But she just smiled mysteriously, her dark eyes glimmered. The car pulled into a private garage of a townhouse. My three friends and I got out. We entered the house through the kitchen. On the way I noticed the stairs down to the basement. I think I was only one smelled it. The rank and horrible stench of rot and decay.

“Ew, what is that?” I said.

“Nothing darling,” said our hostess with a sly smile. “Just some vermin who crawled down there to die.”

The kitchen was oddly bare, but we were bustled along so quickly out into the main part of the house that I didn’t have time to really look. I remember in the foyer there was a general impression of luxury and potted ferns in the foyer. Then we entered the drawing room. That was everything we’d seen the movies and more. High ceilings, marble floors, the walls were paneled with wood or lined with bookcases, and the windows had dark red-velvet curtains. There was a crystal chandelier overhead. The furniture was top of the line and in the art deco style. I remember the record player was playing some Fats Waller. And there was man, he classically was handsome, movie-star handsome. His brown hair slicked back, high cheekbones grown up and masculine. He was wearing a red silk robe and ascot and trousers. He had an angry tightness in his face.

“Freddie, darling,” said our Hostess addressing him. “I brought the fun for tonight. Won’t you be a dear and pour them drinks?”

“Yes dear,” he said in clipped upper class English voice.

And he poured us drinks from a glass decanter. Drink after drink my friends consumed it. They were becoming very drunk.  This wasn’t right. I mean why wasn’t this couple asking us to get down to business right then and there? Why were they liquoring us up? Well, I sipped at my drink, think it was brandy I’m not sure. And I noticed our hosts hadn’t touched their drinks much. I went over to the bookcase on the wall and began to examine the titles of the finely bound books. I knew most of the authors, unlike today they pounded all the classics in our heads. Also not having television really encouraged us to read back then.

“You like books?” said our Hostess.

“Yes,” I said. “I read a lot, well I used to.”

“Could you please read to me?” she asked.

“I’m rusty I haven’t done it in a while.” I said.

“It would so lovely if you did,” she said. “Right above your head is a volume of Tennyson. Could you get it down?”

I reached up and got down the Tennyson. I walked over to her and sat down next to her on the sofa. The sofa was a light pink velvet, deco thing and she was very close to me. I looked at her and book. I was scared.

“What do you want me to read?” I asked.

“The lady of shallot,” She said. “Please, I love that poem!”

So I went to the table of contents found the page and begin to read. It wasn’t the best reading, I stumbled, mispronounced words and paused in places where I shouldn’t have. But her face lit up as I read. The mask of enigmatic sensuality dropped when I read to her. She began to talk to me. Really talk to me. About books. We talked about Tale of Two Cities we’d both loved and she confessed how she’d cried at Sidney Carlton’s speech. Also we loved The Count of Monte Cristo.  And other books, I hadn’t read. She told me to read more Mark Twain, The Bronte sisters and a guy I’d never heard of at the time called John Steinbeck. And then suddenly she looked very sad. I didn’t understand at all.

Fred announced that it was time we retired to the bedroom. So we followed our hosts up the spiral staircase to a bedroom. There was a large four-poster bed, the sheets the purest white. The walls paneled in dark wood. My friends, my poor, stupid, drunk friends tumbled onto the bed undressing quickly and sloppily. I followed suit. There was another record player and more jazz playing on it, Fats Waller again. Our hosts seemed very fond of his music. My friends were a bit carried away. But they gotten drunk and these people were paying us for an orgy, they were gonna pay us good too.   
I could see Spanish Joe kissing Tucker and Covey just lying there half naked almost sleepy. I stood over them my shirt half unbuttoned. So were my hosts. They had both disrobed, their skin was so white. Even the nipples on the woman were almost too pale to be real. And then their eyes popped and they bared their fangs. My friends screamed, I think they gave them time to scream but that’s it. It was so fast and so bloody. Covey reached out his hand for me. I can remember the blood, because it was everywhere. The floor was slick with blood. Splattering, spattering, the record was skipping, blood on the vinyl. And the couple—the vampires—moved so fast, they were blurs. I ran to the door, my heart pounding in my chest. When I got there the woman was blocking it. She was gore from lips to chest. She was smiling at me, an awful mad strawberry smile. I looked back. I shouldn’t have. There was Fred naked, rutting against one the dead bodies of my friends. I couldn’t even tell which anymore because of the carnage. The woman had moved closer to me. I wanted to scream or plead, hoping I could get some mercy from her. Words wouldn’t come out, only a whimper. She looked into my eyes and spoke. All thought went out of my head. All I could do is answer.

“Hush,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Alwin,” I said dumbly.

“Don’t be scared Alwin,” she commanded. “My name is Lucinda.”

I wasn’t scared anymore. I wasn’t thinking anymore, my mind was hers and deadly calm. She held me in her arms and bit me deep on the neck. It felt like I was sinking slowly into blackness there was faintness coming on. However, I felt safe because I thought I’d be dead, like my friends. But then I woke up. I was in a cold place. There was meaty wet thing being shoved in my mouth.

“Drink this,” Lucinda said. “Go on drink Alwin.”

“I like Al better,” I mummbled.

“Fine, Al,” she said. “Drink.”

I opened my eyes. I was naked, lying in a bathtub. I was confused, weak but not angry, not scared, I honestly didn’t know what was going on. She was naked still but clean of all blood. Her bleeding arm was in my face. Fred was hovering behind us.

“What’s going on?” I said. “Why do I have do?”

“Come on, old man, drink if you don’t want to die,” said Fred irritably.

So I began to lick Lucinda’s bleeding arm before me. It didn’t taste like I thought it would. It looked like blood but it tasted like very high proof whiskey, oak, dust, with hints of honey and faint aftertaste of rot and decay. But the way it made me feel, more alive then I ever could recall feeling kept me going and drinking until she yanked it away. I tried to grab on for more.

They watched me for a few moments.

“He’s not coughing it up,” said Fred. 

“Or having a seizure,” said Lucinda.

“Should I be?” I said.

“Not in the best cases,” said Fred.

“Now you change, into one of us,” She said. “We will be here. Helping you.”

In all the books I’ve read they don’t detail the change. Maybe the publishers take it out. Maybe the vampires don’t like to put in the ugly parts of the change. My organs died as the vampire blood went through my body. I could feel them shutting down, with burning pain and fever. And then came the reason I was in the bathtub, as I began to shit, piss and vomit uncontrollably. Sometimes all three at once. Everything I’d eaten or drank the day before came out one way or another. Also you know how many internal parasites the average human contains? I found out that day as they crawled out of me and died. Every bit of human-produced fluid in me left me, I mean every bit. So those tabloid stories about half-human, half-vampire babies aren’t real in the least bit. It was happening so quick, so vigorously, I didn’t really have time to think, to feel anything but my lunch and bile spurting out out my throat.  
Lucinda was holding my hand the whole time ,and Fred was stroking my hair telling me such things as: “Steady on, old man.”

They cleaned me off, but I was blacked out for that. Because next I woke up in a different bedroom, in another four-poster bed. The windows were shuttered tight. The walls were papered in a floral thing, vines with dainty blue flowers sprouting from them. The sheets were so soft, and the pillows felt as if I could melt into them. Everything felt so good.The fog in my brain had gone, I wasn’t shitting out my guts or in a mellow haze. Now I saw them, standing before me were the two people who had murdered my friends in cold blood. Rage came from somewhere inside of me I don’t know where. I needed them dead. I sprang from the bed and charged at them going faster then I’d gone before. Just as fast Lucinda took her arms and grabbed me by the shoulders.

“YOU RATS! YOU ASSHOLES! YOU KILELD THEM! I’LL MURDER YOU!” I screamed. “They’re all dead. They were my friends...”  
I was starting to cry now. Emotions were everywhere, just popping up like mushrooms in the spring.

“You are not human anymore,” Lucinda said. “You can’t afford to be attached to human things or people. I chose you because I saw something more, something better.”

She wasn’t trying to sound like Tallulah Bankhead anymore. There was hint of accent, maybe German? I couldn’t tell.

 

“What do you mean?” I said.

“Do you remember what you went through?” she said.

“I was sick,” I said. “I was really sick. Now I’m not. What did you do to me?”

“You are like us,” Fred said. “A vampire.”

 

“What?” I said. “Like Dracula?! No that’s crazy talk! They don’t exist!”

I know what had happened, but as far I as knew these weird perverts had murdered my friends and hypnotized me to go along with their bizarre obsession. I knew nothing.

“Mr. Stoker’s account is slightly fictionalized, however it is based on truth,” said Lucinda. “And you are one of us. I turned you. You are no longer human. No longer alive. You are undead. Feel your pulse, Al.”

I put my hand on my right wrist, there was nothing. My mouth dropped open. “I have no... no fucking pulse...”

“See,” said Lucinda. “Fred bring in the girl.”

“Right,” Fred said and he walked out the door.

“Well… well…” I said breaking from her grasp and pacing around the room. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you did to my friends and me! You slaughtered them like animals! And you turned me into a monster! They were my friends you know! Now I can kill you! I could stake you or something... I...”

And then Fred brought in the girl. When I say girl, I mean she was older then I. A prostitute—high class one too.  Her image is burnt in my brain. She had black glossy hair in a china doll bob. She would have been pretty but for the look of bitterness on her face. A lit Turkish cigarette dangled from her lips, the smoke curling around her face. She wore a purple corset, with black ribbons for garters and black stockings.

“The usual, I’m here as the entrée right?” Her voice was dead and monotone.

However I could hear her heart pumping louder then I’d ever heard anything in my life. It sounded so delicious. She was barely sexual to me. But I found myself licking my lips at the sight of her.

 

“Yes, Sally,” said Lucinda. “It’s for him.”

She pointed at me.

“He’s new,” said the prostitute Sally. “One of you?”

“Quite,” said Fred.

“Oh, so a neck job.” said Sally. “I’m getting good money for this right?”

“You’ll be taken care of,” said Lucinda. “We want you here all week.”

Sally sighed. “I have things you know, I’ll have to call someone to feed my parrot.”

“Good money,” said Fred.

This whole conversation all I could think of was her body and the that she had blood inside of her all that blood rushing around inside of her. Red and living and lovely. I wanted her more then I’d ever wanted any piece of ass, more then I wanted any sandwich even when I hadn’t eaten in a week. It an urge that combined sex and hunger in way that wasn’t right.

Finally Sally sat down on the bed. She looked at me wearily. I sat down next to her. She pushed back her hair and held out her neck. I hovered over unsure. Then there was sort of odd feeling in my mouth, the first time my fangs retracted, a pain I hadn’t felt since I was teething. And I buried my face in her soft sweet-smelling neck. I ripped open her flesh and began to drink.

I can’t tell you how it tastes. But I know to us it it’s amazing. I can’t say how it tastes exactly it, it’s like describing sex. Yet every type is different. I’m told therianthropes taste better, more fresh. I’ve never drunk any weres—they are tougher than me. I’ve heard Icthyo Americans or deep ones as they hate being called have foul, rotten fish-tasting blood. And magic practitoners have blood that’s addictive and tastes sweet and fizzy like soda. However, I’ve never had anything but human or animal blood. These days I prefer warm cow blood, or pig blood. Although pig is expensive.

 

Fred pulled me away from Sally.

“Don’t kill her,” He said.

I licked her blood from my mouth, trying to get every last drop. Sally had gotten up, Lucinda was using her own blood to heal the wounds I’d made in Sally’s neck. I lay back sated. And Lucinda joined me in bed. She began to kiss me, stroke my face, chest and lower then that. Fred got in the other side and did likewise. In my hazy state it felt good. We were tumbling around together soon. I spent a whole week wrapped together with them. Sometimes it was me and Lucinda. Sometimes it was me and Fred. Sometimes it was all three of us. For the record, yes it is possible to get it up when you are undead, but what comes out when you reach climax is blood. They also fed their blood, as I fed them mine. Sally would show up at times. We’d feed on her. Sometimes we’d use her for what her actual job was, but I have to admit the vampires were better. And the only pleasure was doing it to her while drinking from her.  
All the hate I felt for them and anger was all gone after that week. I can’t explain it, it was like my memories of my friends we’re wiped away as forgettable stain. I loved them more then anything. They had given me their blood, their bodies, shared so much. I was their son, their lover, their brother. And we’d just sit and talk at times the three of us. They told me how they’d dress me up in the best and take me to see the world. They told about the history of our kind and things they’d seen, they’d been there to see. It was amazing. And I thought how above it all we were. How I’d been singled out and given such a gift, something better then money, fame, or salvation.


	3. Chapter 3

At the end of the week we got dressed.

“So can I ask you something?” I said.

“Yes,” Said Lucinda.

“You have human servants right?” I said. “How exactly do you keep them from killing you or reporting to someone?”

“Oh, the housekeeper and husband?” said Fred and he chuckled.

 

“Well,” Lucinda said. “We didn’t always have this have this house. We were wealthy, but we were looking for a place to stay temporarily.”

“And we came upon this motel ...” said Fred. “What we didn’t know is the human guests…. Checked in but never checked out... alive.”

“And our housekeeper and her husband ran it,” said Lucinda. “They were making a tidy profit.”

“We said: ‘right we can kill you here, or we can expose you, or you can work for us, you won’t mind the clean-up seeing as what you do’” Fred said.

“It worked,” Lucinda said. “They are cold-blooded heartless killers, more monsters then we are. And they taught us a trick with lye.”

I laughed. So when the dour housekeeper came in to tell us everything was prepared, I laughed more.

Lucinda and Fred took me down to the basement. It was very dark, no light at all but I could see perfectly. I was amazed at this fact, as there had always been a light in the bedroom we were in. But it was like that didn’t even matter. Then I saw Sally she was naked and chained to the wall her mouth was stuffed with a rag. There was a look of pure terror in her eyes.

I can’t remember feeling any empathy for her. I know that’s terrible, but to me she’d become this thing lower then a rat. It was like when I worked on a farm and seeing chickens get scared when you had the axe. You didn’t care because they were chickens, they were going to be Sunday dinner. That’s what she had become. She was wiggling in those chains. She was looking at Fred and Lucinda. I mean she had known them. She’d had a working relationship with them. What must have been going through her mind, being betrayed like this?

I didn’t think of that then. They were laughing. I was ready to tear her throat open while fucking her. That was my idea anyways. Feast on the sweet blood let flow over her breasts and lap it up as buried myself in her.

Fred put his arm on my shoulder.

“Now here comes the last part. It’s an old ritual we do.  We’ve all done it. Very important.” Fred said.

Lucinda handed me a curved dagger. “Take this Al, cut out the whore’s heart. And then squeeze and drink every bit of blood from it.”

“Can’t use my fangs?” I said.

“Sorry,” said Fred. “Not strong enough yet. Won’t be for ‘nother two hundred years. Human sternums are dammed tough.”

So I went up to Sally. She was pissing, and wiggling and whimpering through the gag. I didn’t like her pissing on me. It was gross. I raised the knife, I put it between her quivering breasts and I plunged in it. I didn’t have any idea about human anatomy. Her body arched up and she gave an almighty scream through the gag. Blood shot out on to me. I went fast and strong my hands were a blur, I was using my supernatural speed. I was soaked with her when I fished it out. It was still beating so hard I licked it and sucked at it. I squeezed it like bunch of ripe grapes and let the arterial blood flow into my mouth, there was much more of it then I thought there would be. Lucinda was clapping for me. And soon she was kissing me. I think Fred was fucking Sally’s still warm corpse. I think he had unchained it was using the hole I made, in her chest. He got that way when blood frenzy over took him. It quickly dissolved into bloody chaos.

At first Fred and Lucinda wouldn’t let me hunt. They had made sure I’d have everything, Fred even had his tailor come over and measure for a season’s worth of clothes. New York City was the perfect hunting ground, especially then when it was easier for people to just disappear. They would bring back people for us to feed on—to kill, then slowly, they began to teach me what I needed to know. Many of our victims were either very poor or absolutely alone, no friends or family nearby to come looking. A combination of both was the best option. Fred and Lucinda were both so beautiful and charming it was easy for them. They’d say the right thing, their eyes would sparkle in the right way and the chump would come right along. Lucinda had it easiest. She had that hypnotic gaze, but half the time she didn’t need it, they were flies in her web. For me it was harder, I looked more like a sucker and I wasn’t as slick. 

It was March 1937, I’d been a stiff for four months. I was sitting around one night reading to myself wondering when they were bringing home dinner.

“Tonight you’re up, old chap,” He said.

I was puzzled by that. “What do ya mean?”

 

“You are hunting tonight,” Fred smiled.

“B-but I’ve never...” I said.

“It’s simple as falling off a log,” Fred replied sitting down next to me. ”Go to Grand Central or Penn Station look for someone looking lost and confused in the crowd make sure they are alone. Think of some rot to tell her and bring her back here alive.”

“All right,” I said. “Her?”

“I feel like a her tonight,” Fred said dreamily. “Something about the taste of feminine blood is much more delicate and sweet then the male.”

Sighing I dressed in a nice tailored suit, asked for the car and drove down to Grand Central. I had our chauffer with me, he kept his distance but stayed where I could see him. I walked through the crowd watching and waiting. Then I saw her. She was watching the people with a dazed expression her face. She had peroxide blonde hair in finger waves, under a pert hat at a angle. The blue coat she wore had a shabby secondhand look to it. Her face was—well, it would be charitable to call her homely. With her wide nose, masses of freckles and large spaniel eyes. She picked a cigarette out of her purse. I took my chance. I walked up to her and flicked open my silver lighter.

“That’s so kind of you,” she said.

“No bother,” I said. “You new here?”

“Yeah,” She said. “I decided to follow my dreams. I figure if I can make it New York City—”

All I could hear was her heart beat strong, constant and healthy her blood flowing through her body.

“—But my Dad said that being a jazz singer is no better than being a—” She went on.

 

“...Uh-huh...” I wasn’t listening but she went on and on. “I never caught your name.”

“I never said it,” She replied. “I’m Fanny Duprie,”

“And I’m Al...Al,” I looked around and saw a black guy wheeling luggage around. “Porter. The thing is when I saw you knew I had found someone special. My uncle runs a big talent agency up here. You could be star: I’m talking Broadway or the fanciest night clubs in the city. I just have to get you to him to see what you got.”

 

She gave me a suspicious glance.   
“Are you trying run to some scam?”

“No, No…” I said.

The sound of the thousands of heartbeats, and all that blood was almost deafening. But I kept my head. I was very hungry. “I just need to bring you to him to hear you sing.”  
I nodded to my driver who was standing there impassively; he nodded back.

Fanny looked me over. “You’re dressed real fancy, that’s the nicest suit I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“I’ll come with you, but if any funny business happens, I’ll scream.” 

“Right,” I said. 

I could hear her heartbeat, the blood rushing through her veins. I wanted her, wanted to rip open that throat of hers, drink and drink.I nodded at the chauffeur, and he pulled up with the car. She was impressed, I could see those dark spaniel eyes light up.  ”Oh wow, that’s a hellvua ride.” She said

“Yeah get in,” I said and held the door open.  
She got in.

The driver pulled away. I could hear her heart beating in the darkness of the car, all that lovely red blood flowing inside of her. She was talking but I didn’t seem to hear her. Then she stopped talking and she slapped me.

“Don’t get fresh!” She said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

 

I looked down, I had somehow closed the distance between us and my hand was resting on her thigh. I lunged at her, my fangs extended and she starting screaming. “HELP IT’S A DRACULA!”  
She was struggling hotly in my arms, and it just made me hungrier.  
I ripped open her neck and began to drink the sweet gushing blood. after while her screams turned into low whimpers, her hand which had been clawing at my face dropped.   
By that time we had pulled into the garage of the townhouse. Fred was waiting for me, he opened the door and tutted.

“You couldn’t wait, could you?” He said.

I let her drop. “I was hungry,” I said lamely.

“No excuse.” Fred remarked. He picked up her swooning body. “She’s not even dead yet, but there’s hardly drop in her.”

 

With a quick deliberate movement he snapped her neck.   
“What did you do that for?” I asked.

“Didn’t want her to suffer anymore, old man,” He said. “Lucinda is going to be bally disappointed in you, ya know.”

 

Today I’m not proud of that. I’m disgusted by it, in fact. Of course the most interesting thing in my life now is when someone vomits in an aisle of the store. A lot has changed in the world. Even in the vampire community. We don’t do that anymore, not since the end of World War II. Even Fred and Lucinda have changed. I haven’t seen them since the late eighties though.

The rest of the thirties was a blur that merged with the forties in my mind. I became more cunning, slicker, and crueler with the people I hunted, I killed. I shouldn’t defend myself, but it was what all vampires did back then. It was what I thought I had to do. It was wrong, but I don’t sit and think about each face, each scream, and each person I killed. It would drive me nuts.  
I remember the day that decade of blood ended though, shortly after Japan surrendered in 1945. To most of the stiffs, the war didn’t matter—just another human conflict among the many the undead had witnessed. Then we saw the pictures of Hiroshima, Nagasaki both flattened of the survivors and the shadows that remained after the explosion, shadows that had once been people. We saw pictures of the Nazi death camps, piles and piles of bodies stacked up like cord wood or laying in pits. I don’t know how we got the pictures first but we did. For a young vampire like mm, they didn’t have as much as of impact, I didn’t know that this horror was something that many of the older jaded vampires had never witnessed. Afterward I remember a night in December, shortly after we’d been to viewing of the pictures. Fred was seated in his leather-covered armchair just staring at the wall with an appalled look on his face, just frozen there for an hour. Finally speaking he said in a cracked hoarse voice:

“And they say we’re the monsters.” 

Lucinda was pretty much the same, only she stayed in her room, lying in her bed for hours. “I thought I knew horror,” she said. “I thought I brought it. I never guessed that man was capable of such things.”

They weren’t alone; about two-thirds of the vampires worldwide were in agreement. We stopped killing people preferring a kind of catch and release, or they would drink warmed animal blood, easily obtained from many butcher shops. Fred and Lucinda mostly stuck with butcher shops and since I was with them, I did too

 

But that was then and as now my life currently isn’t to interesting when my shift is over I go home. Home isn’t anything special. Not a mansion or a crypt. Home is a basement apartment of a three-story building in the upstate New York city of Schenectady the stockade. When I come home I greet my cat Pesky.  
Many people find it odd that vampires have pets. It’s not really. I mean a pet will love you no matter what you did in your past, and won’t ask questions. And if answer if your truthfully, won’t hate you or fear you suddenly probably won’t understand you. Falling in love with a human or even some other supernatural being can be stupid; many of them don’t want to be turned so they’ll age and die. So will a pet, but with a pet you know that already.   
Besides Pesky is cool. I got him from the shelter. He’s a dark grey shorthaired tom cat—fixed, of course. Very large. He was a stray for the first four years of his life. He’s battle scarred; his whole face is torn up and he only has his right ear. His eyes are the color of new pennies. He purrs like a diesel engine when happy, loves sprawling on my lap after I’ve had my meal because I’m nice and warm. I stroke the mass of scar tissue on his head and he kneads my lap. We did have a few problems when I got him. He did not like the idea of being an indoor-only cat. And showed it by shitting and pissing in my shoes and my casket. The former I didn’t mind so much. I had other shoes. The latter was worse, I had to get that bedding dry-cleaned.  
I had a lot of problems getting him from the shelter.  
They let me in, knowing I was vampire. I saw him, liked the look of him because he looked tough, played with him, and found out he was basically on cat death row. No one else had wanted him, and his time was almost up. However, the staff at the shelter didn’t want to give him to me. I had the fee, I had everything at the house for him. I even had a human, my friend Red, who would take him to the vet in the daytime (she’d written a note saying so). But they were under the impression that I was just getting the cat to eat him. Now a six-pack of cow blood is like 5.99 from the supermarket a cat from the shelter costs 50 dollars. A fang girl or fang boy will usually let me bite them and feed for free if I go the vampire night club in Albany. So I had no clue where they got that idea from. Maybe it was under the file: “all vampires are monsters.” And they didn’t say it outright. It was just the lady at the desk talking to her supervisor and the supervisor giving me the evil eye. I mean Pesky was going to be given a lethal injection in a few days. So eventually I argued the case that if I was going to eat the cat, then so what, they were going to kill him anyways. If not, he was going to a happy home. It worked. I didn’t use any mind-control tricks; that happens around one hundred years of age or slightly later. I’m not that old yet.

So yeah I come home give Pesky a head rub. He’s usually waiting at the door. I spoil him terribly. I mean my grocery bill isn’t high. Then I feed him, and clean the litter box. Strip off, jump into the shower. After my shower, I put on my pajamas grab a carton of moo blood from the fridge, pop it in the microwave, turn on TV and feed the other cat, the stray. I don’t know anything about this cat. But it has been coming around; pretty little thing shorthaired, thin, sort of light beige fawn-colored with blue eyes not shy at all. Likes the Fancy Feast turkey I have one saucer I put out for her. I think it’s a her not sure.

Then I watch RV and drink my dinner with Pesky on my lap. Pesky isn’t jealous of this cat which is odd because, he hates other cats. So I watch the things I’ve put on the DVRl it’s not really anything to write home about I watch the news, I watch old movies from when I was alive, I watch cartoons, some sci-fi, a few good sitcoms, dramas. Also I check my phone while I do this, usually don’t have any messages. The master vampire Sky has no use for me since he fired me as DJ of his nightclub, two years ago. And I don’t really have many friends. Apart from the human woman, Red, who lives around here, works nights, sometimes we text. Sometimes I get messages from work. But that’s it. Boring right? Not what you’d want from a creature of the night. Then around four or five a.m I slip off to my casket to sleep.  
Every two weeks on Saturday I drive my car down to Pennsylvania to a nursing home for people with Alzheimer's disease. My little sister Dora lives there. She has children and grandchildren. They put her there. I’ve been visiting for five years. She knows me. Her face lights up like 100-watt bulb when she sees me. I hardly know her. 

 

When it’s the third of the month like today. Every third of the month me and every other stiff goes to house of the Master Vampire for monthly assembly. It’s called an assembly. What it is cross between a town hall meeting and a time to hang out with other vampires. By the laws of our kind, I am not allowed to write here how many vampires are in the capital district. I can say it’s more than a dozen and less then one hundred. I feel stupid having to drive my jalopy which is more rust and duct tape then car, and makes more noise then a one-man band coming down the street, up to iron wrought gates. I hate it. The bulky guy at gate house always gives me a look. He’s a werewolf of course. All Sky’s security are lone werewolves. Kicked out their packs for something and not eager to find a new one. Shifty werewolves. He says something into his ear piece, laughs, and buzzes me in. I don’t like the laugh. The driveway is winding and long, showing off whoever did the landscape gardening for Sky. Not that he cares at all. He never sees it. As for the house, well, it’s a mansion on a hill. Greek revival-style with huge white columns and doors. It has over 35 rooms. Around Halloween, Sky gives tours to the local news stations. I’ve seen it. He shows them things like the bedrooms, the bathrooms, our assembly room, the bowling alley, the indoor pool. However, I’ve heard there are other rooms like the BDSM dungeon, the torture chamber, the one with the circular, vibrating, gold velvet water bed with the mirrored ceiling. But those are rumors and idle gossip. What really gets me is the parking lot in front—almost all the cars here are nicer then mine. I’m not talking about the BMWs and Mercedes. However you’d be surprised at the number of Priuses, Volvos, and smart cars you see here. Very few vampires drive SUVs. And in this area Hummers are asking for vandalism or even a staking. So I park my hooptie get out and go into the assembly room. If I were to describe the inside of the house I’d say money and taste. Not Sky’s taste, of course, it’s either an interior decorator he’s hired or right hand woman Juno’s taste. But the money is his. The assembly room is on the left-hand side. There is no business to discuss this month. So this basically enforced hang-out time. I don’t like that.  
The assembly room is the size of a ballroom, it has light blue wall to wall carpeting. The walls are white. There are French windows with heavy velvet drapes. Around the room are dark wooden tables and chairs. My fellow vampires sit there talking, playing cards, board games, gossiping over a glass of warm blood. Against the wall for those more inclined to relax are arm chairs that are in blue pleather, well, I think it’s pleather; a few of us hang out in those. I’m the youngest vampire here tonight. I feel like shit. Just so Sky can count us.

Where is Sky? He’s up at the front of the room. He’s on a raised dais. Sitting on huge ornate throne. Sky doesn’t look old or scary. He is though. He comes from the Pre-Roman Iron age Europe and I’ve heard about the extent of his powers is mind blowing. He was in his late teens or early twenties when he was taken. He doesn’t look impressive he’s about average height, with thin, wiry body. Sort of gangly. He has a longish pointy nose, blue eyes that seem more twinkly happy than scary. And oddly scarred perfect cupid’s bow lips. But the most interesting thing about him is long thick, curly mane of bright, flaming red hair that comes down to the middle of back. He tells everyone this is what earned him is immortality. And tells everyone it was stupid. Obviously Sky is not his name.  
He lounges on the throne. Large bare feet slung over one arm rest, arms on the other side. Head lolling. He wears a pair of dingy jeans. Over his bare chest, he has on a beat-up yellow hoodie. Currently his neon green netbook his resting on his lap and he’s giggling at funy cat pictures. By his elbow is small round table with a glass goblet filled with blood. Unlike what the rest of us, it’s filled blood from someone not something.

I tried to enter quietly. I thought he’d be busy looking at funny cats. But as soon I stepped in the room. His head lifted and turned like a snake.

“Al! So nice to see you! Come here!” he said.

I went to foot of dais. He got off the throne, putting the netbook down and gave me a tight hug like we were old friends. Odd.

“You see me every month,” I said.

“Yeah,” He said. “Not often enough, you don’t come to Sanguine!”

That’s the name of the vampire night club he owns in Albany. It’s on Lark street. My human friend Red called it: 'The cheeseist vampire night club, ever.' I’m told the real good vampire clubs are in New York City. Sky is at Sanguine every night, sitting on another throne on another dais: hair pulled back, eyes kohled up like a raccoon, make-up on his skin to make him look paler, a black silk shirt that shows off half his chest, black leather pants and an expression of grimness to befit the MASTER vampire. A total act. He sits there motionless for hours.

“You fired me as the DJ from Sanguine,” I said.

“Well, yes,” he said, he wrinkled his nose. I noticed he’d drawn in freckles again, he keeps doing that. “The music you played was too depressing and hard to dance too. The humans who come want darkness and creepiness but not like that. They don’t want weird Throat singing techno. Also why the hell did you play Suffer little Children by the Smiths? It was a floor killer!”

“It was my last night,” I said.

He laughed. “It was funny. But remember some us of like making money.”

 

He takes his arms off of me. I can still feel the pinch of them and the weight of those thin seeming arms. I think it’s on purpose. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself bucko.’ Is the message. Loud and clear. Iron age knows where the bog bodies are buried, helped put them there. 

Then Juno stepped out from behind the throne. She a is short, thick figured but not fat. Her hair is tiny neat braids corn-rowed up her scalp that spirals into a shining black bun. She has some of the darkest skin I’ve ever seen. And features that look they were chiseled out of stone. She is about 200 years old. She is sense and reason to Sky’s silly, emotional nature. They are bookends. Tonight she is wearing a charcoal grey turtle neck and black slacks.

“Speaking of which, the bank wants to talk you about the mortgage on Sanguine,” she said holding up her cellphone.

“Can’t you deal with them?!” He barked.

“You signed the papers,” she sighed. “You have to.”

“Ooooh,” He moaned and sagged like a child told it has to do its chores and took the phone from her. “Yes Sky Morningstar, uhhh-huhhh... hmmmm.... it’s in the mail...”

She gave me a long tired look and shook her head. I know Sky made her. Beyond that I’m not sure what their connection is. They may be lovers or friends or beyond that.

“Hey, Al!” A familiar high and hoarse called my name.

I turned and looked down to see a friend.

“Hi Adele.” I smiled back.

“How about a game of Garbage, I you do remember from last time?” said.

“I think,” I said.

She’s one the few bloodsuckers I can stand around here. Doesn’t talk about things I wasn’t around to see. Doesn’t talk down to me or treat me like I’m baby who’s seen nothing and knows nothing. All the rest of the jerks in the room, playing their obsolete card games or talking about things that happened back in the 1800s are assholes, I don’t bother with them. Adele is cool. Adele Hart stands almost 3 feet tall in her socks. And she’s not a child, she’s full grown adult. A little person. Some bastard thought it would a real good joke to turn her into a vampire. Maybe they thought it wouldn’t take. Who knows. She doesn’t.

“People would laugh at me,” she she’s fond of telling me over and over again, like tonight, as she dealt the cards. “They’d laugh until I started crawling up their leg fangs out at vamp speed, femoral artery is the way to go. Then they’d die. And you know I’m not the only one. I’ve met more then the dozen little people vampires. I even heard of a pair of conjoined twin vampires. And you know the Master Las Vegas is a hunch back? Anyone who makes a Quasimodo joke near her gets dusted.”

We were playing the cards. “So what do you these days?” I asked.

“Well you know I was giving a lot of interviews you know talk shows, VH1, comedy central, but the vampire senate said I was portraying our kind in a negative light and I’d see the light if I didn’t.” She said. “To bad I like the money. I even got an offer to a supernatural version of the Wizard of Oz. But that got shut down by a bunch of PC nancies who think we all should look good for the media.”

I bit my tongue at this. I agreed with those PC nancies, we really don’t need bad light neither does the rest of supernatural community. Therianthropes don’t want to be seen as inhuman terrors who will hunt down rip apart innocent mortals for kicks or because they can’t control it. We don’t want to be seen as murderers. Magic users don’t want to be seen as agents of the devil. And Icytho Americans don’t want to be seen as some unnatural abomination that worships in unholy rites an insanity causing evil beyond imaging. But then again I’m not in showbiz like Adele is or was.

“What about you?” Adele said.

I was losing the game badly. I had remembered how to play but I still sucked. “Eh, mostly the same. I’m writing my memoirs.”

“You are boring, Al,” said Adele. “Who’d want to read your life? You’ve never seen a city burn, or a civilization collapse. Or anything really cool happen. You’re not that old.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think maybe people might want to hear from the average Stiff in the street. So what are you doing to make money these days?”

“I’m dancing at Sanguine,” Adele said. “Yeah, I’m one of the vampire pole dancers. The only little person vampire pole dancer out there. My stage name is get this: La petite morté.”

And we both laughed.

“Don’t you feel, kind of degraded doing that?” I said. 

“It’s all a show for humans. I mean we get to eat them and or fuck them. But they just come to gawk at the scary monsters.”

“Yeah well, when I was twelve my Ma sold me to a traveling freak show. It’s the same deal. But this pays better than the freak show and I get to go home at end of the evening.” Adele said.

“When was that?” I said.

“Oh about 1845,” she said. “I was turned in 1858. I was working in brothel then...”

“Oh...” I looked sad.

She glared at me. “I had a job, as a maid there! I wasn’t a hooker!”

“All right,” I said. She was still glaring. I sighed. “I believe you. Anything else?”

She smiled.

“Remember that anti-social, rude, limey, wreck of bartender Sky had there?” Adele said gleefully.

“It was one of his own uhh...  Winthorn?” I said. Trying to think back to a truly unpleasant piece of work who’d never done shown anything but contempt for me.

“Winthrope.” Adele filled in. “Bastard called me tiny tart and short stuff. Well about four months ago. He hooked up with this werejaguar... twink.... cleared out his savings and quit in a very loud manner. Saying he was off to take Javiar the were-jaguar to see Europe. Apparently he left Sky a nasty note. Well that’s what I’ve heard. Sky hasn’t said anything. We hired a new bartender actually does the job right… really nice girl...”And then the door banged open. Adele mumbled: “speak of the devil.”

It had started raining hard since I had come in. I hadn’t noticed. But the bedraggled figure who was dripping on the carpet made it evident. He was wrapped up in a long raggedy coat color unknown under the grime and muck. His pale spidery hand was pushing down a misshapen fedora (was a fedora or maybe a trilby?) on his head. The security werewolves still in human form we trailing him and now were attempting to drag him back into the night. Sky made a dismissive gesture from his throne and they left growling a little. All eyes were on the figure. We all knew it was Winthrope, he had come crawling back like the cat in the song. Sky walked down from his throne and approached. A slow devious smile on his lips. He stripped off the coat, peeled off the hand off the hat and flung it like a frisbee to far corner of the room. Winthrope looks like a dark haired, malnourished, love child of Nick Cave and David Bowie. He was in a tattered suit. Winthrope is a head taller than Sky. But Sky seemed loom over him. Also Winthrope was shivering terribly. Now vampires don’t notice the cold, we can feel it but our bodies don’t react anymore. There is only one reason why we shiver like that. If we haven’t fed in more then a month or more (of course older vampires can go longer without blood.) Winthrope was shivering like drunk with the staggers and jags. I had heard Sky had turned him in 1970.

“Well?” Sky said.

“P--p--please.... give me....” said Winthrope. His voice even then, even pleading and stuttering was posh and lovely.

“No,” said Sky. “You think you can walk in here like the prodigal catamite and I’ll slaughter the fatted call girl for you? What do you say?”

A sneer formed on Winthrope’s quivering lips. “Arse--Arse---h-h-h-h-hole...”

“No, I made you. I can end you. Now. You sorry mess.” Sky said. “I should end you, but I do like you. You know what do you. You ungrateful leech.”

“S--s-s--s-s-ssorrry,” Winthrope spat out.

“Good boy,” said Sky. “Now you want some blood?” he was saying it gently, and patting Winthrope’s sodden mess of black hair.

Winthrope nodded dumbly, his head bobbing and shaking it was painful to watch like marionette in a high wind. I never liked Winthrope: snob, sarcastic, ungrateful and a bastard. But then I just wanted to grab the nearest cup of red stuff and give to the poor stiff.

“Y--y-y--y-y--yess...” Winthrope muttered.

Sky nodded to Juno. Juno brought over the goblet, it was still warm. Sky had hardly sipped it. Human blood, much better than the animal stuff we we’re drinking. Sky had connections with corrupt Red Cross officials. There had been scandals in the news but it still went on we all knew it. Winthrope reached out slowly. Sky pulled back.

 

“No not yet,” Sky said. “You are a worm, through and through. And you want this, you need it. Words aren’t enough. You know, Winthrope. You hurt me. I made you, pulled you from self-destruction. How long would it have been if I left you a human alcoholic in London? You would have drank or drugged yourself to death by the end of the 70s if not sooner. If you would have hung on a bit longer: growing ugly and old dying from cirrhosis of the liver or something worse. I have cared for you, put clothes on you, bought you things you like, employed you, cleaned up all your ‘little mistakes’. You repay me by being a an ungrateful SHIT! Running away on me! You are a snake at my breast always have been. So get on the floor. ON YOUR BELLY! KISS MY FEET! FRENCH MY TOES YOU TOFFY-NOSED, USELESS BASTARD!”

I saw Winthrope sneer, draw back, a curse start form some venom about to spit from his lips. Then just as sudden bonelessly slump to the floor and begin to lick and suck Sky’s toes. With repulsive slurping sounds. Sky giggled terribly, said it tickled and then told Winthrope to get up and drink the blood.

Winthrope belted back the blood in one fluid motion none got on his lips I was surprised. He had stopped shaking totally. He glared at us as if daring us to laugh. We did. He was still glaring, we all hated him. He hated us back.

 

“I’ll have my job back right?” He said. Straightening up, regaining dignity as if he hadn’t just cowered and quaked.

“Should I give back to him, Juno?” Sky asked.

“You weren’t a good bartender,” Juno said to Winthrope. “You were rude to customers, sarcastic, you mixed up drink orders sometimes on purpose, surly, you ignored customers, you openly mocked them and worst of all you popped your fangs at human customers. Which could be considered threatening a human and the police could shut us down for that.”

“Yes, but they love me,” said Winthrope.

“They do,” said Sky. “They keep asking about him.  Juno, he has so many fang girls and fang boys it’s ridiculous. So we fire Madeline and re-hire him.”

“No.” Juno said. “I like Madeline she knows what she’s doing. She’s a trained mixologist who can make actual cocktails. Not just Rum and coke or Gin and Tonic. Half the time he can’t do.”

“Fine,” Sky said. “You’re back but part time, and half pay.”

“That is a fucking travesty! I deserve more money,” said Winthrope. “I’m not coming back! I’m a trained actor! I don’t need to deal with dumb human drunks gawping at me and hitting on me. I don’t need to come home smelling like cheap ale.”

“No you don’t,” said Sky. “I can end you.”

“Fine,” Winthrope grumbled.

“Also we get to dress you,” Sky grinned.

“No!” Winthrope scowled.

“Yes!” Sky said. “Black PVC pants, matching vest and nickel nipple rings.”

“PVC trousers?” Winthrope rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you just strip me naked and put a neon  sign over my crotch saying: ‘Get it here’”

“We would but I found out that’s illegal,” Sky said.

“What do wear under this vest?” asked Winthrope.

“Nothing,” Sky said.

“And the nipple rings, I’m not...” Winthrope said.

“Oh, we’ll re-pierce you every night before work,” Sky said.

“You are a bag of dicks you know that,” Winthrope said.

“When you get to my age,” Sky said. “You better hope it’s just dicks. You can go now.”

Winthrope shrugged and turned to leave. Sky rushed to him.

“Yes?” Winthrope said. “I am eager to take a shower and get myself settled in for the night.”

“Did you have any ‘accidents’ on your travels, that bum-boy Javiar for instants?” Sky said.

Winthrope growled. “Not him, but I wish. He ran off and left me for dead. No money, no clothes, no passport, naked tied to park bench in Vingeland park in Oslo waiting for the sun to rise. Thank god for pre-dawn joggers.”

“So no... getting sloppy with the feeding you can get sloppy Winthrope,” Sky said.

“Well no...err...” Winthrope sighed. “...yes..”

“Tell me about it later,” sighed Sky. “I’ll get someone to take care of it. Also I note you think you are off the hook for you little trip.”

“Considering everything that happened and has happened. I rather think I am,” said Winthrope

“Not by a long shot,” said Sky. “You had one of those stuck up ‘public school’ education right? Learned Latin I bet?”

“Yes, what’s that got to do with anything?” said Winthrope.

“Do you recall what the poet Catullus said to his critics?” said Sky.

Winthrope had a puzzled look on his face. “I’m a bit foggy on that...”

“Allow me to refresh your memory,” Sky said. “Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo, that my dear Sheridan St. James Winthrope Esquire, is just the beginning of what is in store for you this evening and the following evenings. I won’t not be gentle, you don’t deserve it.”

Winthrope looked very afraid and left quickly. The room was tittering as his footsteps were heard on the stair and got louder and louder. Sky took a bow and did a awkward soft shoe tap dance. Master vampire, older the dirt he is, dancer he is not.

“What did he say exactly to him?” I asked Adele.

“No idea, I don’t speak Latin,” Adele said.

She turned and asked some vamp who did. And then told me she was laughing fit to burst.  So did I when I heard. Basically, Winthrope was told he going to be face fucked and sodomized. I have to say at this was one of those rare non boring nights of assembly at the Master vampire’s house. I felt pretty good when I got back into my car and went back home.


	4. Chapter 4

Around 1952 Fred and Lucinda decided to take me around the capitals of Europe. I’d never been out of America before.  
I liked England I could kind of understand the people there. Though the slang tripped me up so did the money. I’d never seen Fred so close to laughing as when I tipped a cabbie what I later found out was far to much. He also took me to vampire club, no like the ones we have today. It was old fashioned gentleman vampire club in the west end with  red leather arm chairs and chaps in monocles. You drank from the waiters. However most the British vampires were as stuffy as the dusty air in that club. They read the Times or Guardian, did the cross words bemoaned not being able to ever see proper cricket, and gossiped. Called each other odd nicknames like “Tuffy” or “Gally” one was “Garlic” because he preferred feeding on French people. Fred was in his element really. I’d never seen him so at home. 

They also said they regretted that someone had turned ‘Oscar’ one them called ‘Musty‘ Devereaux said: “We thought he’d go on being demmed witty you know, instead he just got very you know, violent and angry. Terrible shame really.”

Fred nodded and replied: “Well you know, He is Irish.”

Many of the old boys as I began to think of them, nodded. The fog was pretty bad in London. Fred wanted to see more of his country, Lucinda objected. I think his calling her ‘old thing’ during his pleading about this made us go to Spain faster then normal. The slap she gave him across the hotel room. He’d never called her that before and never after. Spain was weird by night. I was disappointed because there was no night bullfighting it couldn’t be done they said. However I did get to see some of that dancing with the clicky things and the ruffly skirts. Later Lucinda and I got to feed off the dancer. I don’t remember much about Spain. After that we headed to France.  
While we where in England Lucinda had prepared me for France and the French. She had spent some time there before coming to America. She taught me the proper way to speak French, all though she admitted her French was probably a bit old fashioned sounding now. And  on the  train I asked her something I’d never asked before.

“Where are you from and how old are you?” I said.

“Firstly I don’t know where I’m from. We travelled a lot my family. We were actors. We had cart that got us around. My Mother was from... well..it was once called Prussia but it before that even. My father? He could have been one the other actors there or someone else. But I had a grandfather. I know that. As for my age, I’m as old my tongue and a little older then my teeth. And once I bedded a princeling.”

“Which one?” I asked.

“No one of importance now,” She said. “He was the heir to country to small country to be noticed of the world at large, that has long been erased by history.”

“So how old are you Lucinda?” I asked.

Fred cleared his throat. He’d been reading a P.G Wodehouse novel. “It’s rather rude to ask a lady her age, you know.”

She looked at Fred. “Thank you dear,”

“Don’t mention it Darling,” He said and went to his book.

“Is your name even Lucinda?” I asked.

“What do you think?” She said.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

She smiled serenely and went back to her reading a copy of Dante’s Inferno.

Paris was better then I’d imagined and with Lucinda’s couching my French didn’t manage to insult any of natives. Unlike Fred’s who scowled and grumbled about them frogs. We stayed at a luxury hotel in a suite I had an adjoining room. I remember standing out of the balcony with Lucinda looking over city to the  eiffel tower all lit at night. She’d be wearing a silk bathrobe and would teach me conversational French. Her beauty, her cleavage and the scenery were very distracting though. But she was in such a good mood, romantic, happy, that she would kiss me lightly and we’d go back into the room. It even infected Fred who ceased grumbling and joined us. The first two nights we would stroll around the city looking at the people and the river. Three lovers in Paris. But that ended on the third night. We were helping Fred remember how to pronounce his words correctly teasing him. And giggling every time he said: ‘Damn!’ ‘Blast!’ and ‘Bloody!’ Although he was  beginning to smile. When there was a knock on our door. We hadn’t asked for anything.  Lucinda got up to answer it. Standing there was a bellhop with a horrible blank look in his eyes and a bleeding bite mark on his neck. On a round silver tray was a heavy parchment sealed with red wax.

“For you Mademoiselle,” he said in voice as blank as his expression.

Lucinda took the letter from the tray. “Monsieur, what has happened to your neck?”

He stared at her bemused. “What do you mean? Nothing has happened.” I don’t remember anything happening.”

“Garcon,” Fred ordered. “Come here I’m going to tip you.”

The bellhop was dazed but not so much that he’d forgotten about francs. He entered the room. Lucinda was reading the note. I tipped the bellhop as Fred discreetly drew blood from his own wrist and fixed the bellhop’s wounds.

Lucinda’s lips moved as she appeared to reread the message.

Lucinda turned to the bellhop. “Can you tell anything about how you got this message?”

“No,” The bellhop said. “I can’t remember anything, Madame. I just remember walking down the hallway to your room with it on my tray. Before that I had just gone back to work from my break.”

“No one, followed you in?” Said Fred.

“I...I---” The bellhop looked around. “I--I----I can’t... don’t think so..”

“Thank you,” said Lucinda. “You can go now.”

And the Bellhop left.

When he shut the door. She stripped off her bathrobe, silk nightie and ran into the bathroom. The shower was running.

“What’s going on Fred?”

Fred had picked up the message from the table where Lucinda had left it. His brow furrowed. “This rummy thing is in latin. Haven’t seen Latin since I was at Harrow....”

“Wow.” I said. “What does it say?”

“From what I can make out. It says  the Master vampire of Paris demands our presence, in the catacombs. Tonight at around 10:00 pm sharp. That means we have three hours to get ready. Best togs and all.” said Fred.

“Oh, wow, this is serious?” I said.

“You saw what they did to that poor bellhop right?” Fred said.

“Yeah, It wasn’t so bad...” I said.

“In the old days before we this the humans unleashed their abomination. We would have found his mangled body and the note, you know.” Fred said. “It was a demand backed with a threat, Old man make no mistake.”

Lucinda dressed with vampiric speed. I’d never seen her do that before or since from her underwear to the final spray of Chanel Coco she was ready. Fred was worried she’d bruise her face while using the rogue but she barked at both of us to get in the shower and NOT to fool around there was no time. So we did. Sharing a shower just for the purposes of getting clean was something  hadn’t done since I was human and spent a night in prison for vagrancy. Then into black tuxs and white ties. Fred always had to tie mine. I’ve never mastered the stupid thing. We slicked back our hair. Lucinda said our pants hadn’t been pressed right. I pointed out we we’re already in them, she hissed at me like enraged cat and her fangs almost popped out. I’d never seen her so nervous. Her fingers were tapping on a clutch she held. The phone rang it was the front desk there was a private car waiting for us at the front of the hotel.

I don’t remember the driver or the ride over. The waves of tension Lucinda was sending out were awful. Ever since I known her had she been cool and serene. Sometimes she’d get annoyed with Fred like over staying in England. However, now she was a bundle of raw nerves.

When we got out of the car meeting us there was a hunchbacked nun in full habit and gaunt tall man with a patchy blond beard in a modest brown suit his face covered with syphilitic sores and he had a bronze nose strapped to his face.

“Sister Anouk,” Lucinda said looking at the nun.  Sister Anouk didn’t smile.

“Odette,” Sister Anouk said. “I asked to come and welcome you. I have missed you. There are so many fools here.”

I noticed something, Sister Anouk was speaking English almost perfect English with hardly a trace of an accent.

“I’m not called Odette anymore,” said Lucinda. “However it is nice to see you again Sister Anouk.”

“I also wanted to see you,” said The pox marked man with the bronze nose. “I’ve written so many verses about your tits and cunt.”

“You haven’t changed Ersamo. I am repulsed by you as always. I will never understand why a  whoremonger like you wasn’t left to your much deserved fate,” Lucinda said.

Erasmo took a step towards her, hands out, groping, toothy, creepy grin on his face. Fred and I stepped in front of her and glared at him

“Puttane!” He spat. “I am a comedian! I am very funny, you just don’t have any sense of humor! I’ve made vampires roar with mirth from Moscow to Cairo! This is how you repay my devotion. You get your gigolos to defend you. I was made by Lucian scarlip, the flame haired. He knows what’s funny. You don’t.”

 

It was decades and decades later that I realized who he meant when I met Sky. Yes, Sky made that horrible thing before us. I mentioned it to him. I asked him once what was the funniest thing about Erasmo. Sky laughed and replied: ‘his face!’

Erasmo turned and stomped off.

“I could crush that maggot,” Lucinda said.

“So could I,’ Sister Anouk sighed. “I had wait here with him for your car. He kept suggesting that he could relief of my maidenhead. And that I should regard it as a very large favor.”

I looked at Sister Anouk true she had a hunchback but as for her face, it plain and course  featured but not as bad as Erasmo. She also looked young, a little older then me when I was turned.

“Doesn’t he know about you? I thought everyone in France did at least,” said Lucinda.

 

“That I am unable to seduced by man or woman. That I do not have any interest in any sexual activity. Either he has not heard or he see it as a perverse challenge.” Sister Anouk said with a weary smile. “I am going to leave soon. Europe and this country has just grown to stifling, to boring for me. All the same faces, the same games.”

 

“Really where are you going?” said Lucinda.

“The wild west,” said Sister Anouk.

“Hurry up!” called Erasmo.

Fred and I followed them as they walked and talked.  
We found ourselves going underground. I’ve said before vampires can see very well in pitch blackness, so burning torches that gave off an eerie yellow orange light must have been for show and atmosphere.  The walls were made of human bones. I’d seen death a lot by then. But corpses as interior decorating?

“Where are we?” I asked Fred.

“The Paris catacombs, old horse,” said Fred. “Where they used dump bodies of the poor and such. Meeting place for the cities vampires, traditional don’t you know.”

 

“Oh weird,” I said.

As we walked down the tunnel.

“Yes,” he grumbled. “Highly dramatic and morbid if you ask me. But these Romantic races insist on it. Do the same thing in Rome I’m told. Now in London we meet in a much more sensible place.”

“Where do you meet?” I asked.

“Oh you know the Stryx club  you went there dear boy,” He said. “We have to let women, foreigners and vampires of the lower classes in when things get sticky.”

The most dull place I could imagine at the time. I decided I’d take creepy, dramatic catacombs any day.  
The hallway widened into a room. The torches lit up walls grinning skulls, and polished bones.  There were other vampires here. They were all dressed in evening wear the finest highest style not dark and dreary either the colors were bright, lots of red, greens, creams and blue I recall. The women wore pearl necklaces and had perfectly red lips.

In the center was high backed throne made entirely of human bone, skulls for arm rests. It had green velvet cushions. Someone put a needle on a record and minnie the moocher began to play. There was movement in the back passage, it was to far for any of us to see through the darkness. But as the record played, something was approaching in the gloom. It was litter carried by four men in domino masks, wearing black tuxedos. The litter was also made of human bones. On it reclined a woman, she was of African descent, her hair was up in shining black knot. She wore a sleeveless black evening gown with pink trim and a pink sash it was ruffly and the bottom. She had opera gloves, a necklace of gleaming diamonds, and she wore a mask as well. She held to her face with a stick it was the most colorful on her, some exotic birds must given their feathers for it, at the top two twin plums of the lyre bird came up where her eyes were. She gazed at us through the mask. Her bearers lowered the litter. One of them offered his hand to her. She took it graciously she moved like a great lady, a queen. the music stopped. She sat on the throne. She removed her mask. She had heavy lidded eyes, a long straight nose, a full lips. Alone I don’t know if they would have pretty but together they were stunning. Her gaze passed through me over Fred. And right into Lucinda.

“Odette,” She said, she spoke with a French accent.”You came to my city, and I had to demand your presence here. Is this anyway to treat me, mon chaton?”

“I am not Odette anymore, I have not been Odette since 1556,”Lucinda replied cooly. ”I see your ambitions have paid off Rufina.”

“Yes, it was hard work. Only after the Artisos got the chop did I manage to get Paris,” Said Rufina. “Despite having been here since Tiberius and the Pax Romana.”

“Yes, you told me many, many, many times,” Lucinda sighed bitterly.

 

“Well I have got my own, Oh if only you come a century earlier mon chaton. I could have taken you see the divine Bernhardt perform! I have a box! I know you were in France why didn’t come to see me?” said Rufina.

“We weren’t here long, just a short stop over before going to the states you know,” Lucinda said. “Why didn’t you turn Bernhardt? I could watch her perform tonight.”

“We wanted to when she was young. Then we tried when we old. Turned out she was a mortal who gets poisoned by out blood, died.” Rufina said. “Pity.”

“Yes, shame. You can’t have everything you want all the time Rufina.” Lucinda said, venom dripping.

“Well you are here, I will show you and your friends the sights of Paris. I can do that, mon chaton!” She said.

“No that’s fine,” Lucinda said.

“You are not going to refuse are you? It wouldn’t be very kind of you to do that in my city,” Rufina said. “It wouldn’t be wise, what do you call yourself these days?”

“Lucinda,” she stiffly.

“Oh, how charming.” Rufina said and left her throne. I hadn’t noticed but she was barely five feet tall. She walked up to me. I bowed my head. I’d never met a Master vampire before, but it seemed like a good idea.

“Good evening Madame,” I said in my best French.

She smiled at me, bright and shining like the blade of a knife. “Oh! You are adorable! American right?”

“Yes M’am,” I said.

“What is your name?” She asked.

“Alwin, M’am,” I said.

“Well Alwin, I want you kiss my hand,” She said. She held out her gloved right hand to me. I bent down and kissed the silk.”Charming! You know we helped you win your revolutionary war!”

“Yes Lafayette,” I said.

“I never I had the pleasure of meeting him. However I did meet your Benjamin Franklin, such wit! Such intelligence! However he didn’t keep his hands to himself. And he never knew I was anything but a serving girl in a tavern,” She said. “It is pleasure to meet you Alwin.”

 

She moved on to Fred.

He bowed as well. I’m glad I did that it was right thing. She didn’t smile at him her eyes narrowed.

“I am Fredrick Wycombe-Smythe, it is a pleasure to meet you M’am,” He said he took her hand.

She withdrew it as if he had burnt her.  
“Didn’t we fight in over a hundred wars your people?”

“Yes, but that was before my time,” He said.

“Doesn’t matter never liked England,” She said. “Even your humans taste funny like mildew and sadness. English vampires are worse all puffed up with pride because their country put a boot on the beating  throat of the world.”

She turned away.

“But didn’t you come from the Roman empire? From Africa? As a slave?” Fred countered.

Before anyone could blink she had turned, ran and was an inch from Fred’s face fangs drawn.  
“Listen foolish young one. I don’t remember anything of Africa. I was taken by the slavers as young child. I can hardly recall Italy. I have lived most of my life and unlife here in France! I was turned when I was a free woman, my master was old, dying and freeded me in his will. So be quiet! I am more a French woman then I ever was Roman or an African!”

Now I have to say one thing, Fred he kept his cool through the whole exchange didn’t flinch or show any signs of distress. Lucinda on the other hand had almost leapt to his side, her fangs were out, and Rufina’s subject’s hands on her shoulders restraining her had stopped her. Fred just calmly waited and stared until Rufina backed away.

“Dreadfully sorry then, didn’t mean to upset you,” said Fred. He looked at Lucinda. “Don’t be worried dearest, she’s a reasonable woman.”

 

Rufina looked contemptuously over at Lucinda. “You left me for this, this Rosbif.”

Lucinda had withdrawn her fangs and now looked much calmer, there was a twinkle in her dark eyes she was enjoying this. “No we parted long before that because of your ambitions. Tell me, Rufina was clawing backstabbing, fucking and killing your way to the top worth it?”

“We were lovers, we were two souls entwined for almost four centuries. Why did you do that to me? You didn’t see me as some novelty, dismiss me as a nothing, you loved me. You left the one who made you for me. With your love I thought I could have try for Paris. And you left me!” Rufina screamed.

“Please we are in front of your subjects,” Lucinda said.

“I don’t care! They are nothing! I could destroy any of them!” Rufina roared. “I have to go about the human world pretending to be a drudge, or the lowest whore... but here I can flex my littlest finger and kill. 1556 why did you go to England, you put an ocean between us!”

There were blood tears on Rufina’s face.

“I had to,” Lucinda said. “I had to, I loved you to much, but you ambitions, your plays for power. The games you put both of us in, were dangerous you didn’t care and you neglected me. If I stayed with you, I’d be killing myself from within.I had to leave and not being able fly to you when I weak and alone was important. I had to strong by myself.”  
Now the blood tears were streaming down Lucinda’s face.

Fred turned to me and whispered. “I think we should leave, let the girls sort it out you know.”

“What if they kill each other?” I whispered back.

“I don’t think that will happen.” Fred said.

He cleared his throat. “Permission to leave your majesty.” He said.

Rufina looked at him but didn’t seem to see him. “Yes, fine. Go.” She waved at us.

We went away the way came up. Leaving the drama downstairs.

 

Sister Anouk was outside, staring at sky.

“Hello,” She said. “You know you used to be able to see all the stars up there in the sky once.”

“Do you miss that?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I hate the stars.”

I stared at her, she turned to me. Her face blank. “I tell you the story of how I was turned and you will understand why. When I was five I my father brought me to the covent. I had not been happy at home. My siblings were not kind and neither were the villagers. They laughed at me, threw stones and mocked me. My father felt it was best with my deformity to live as a nun. So he took me to covent. He had a letter from our priest. I can remember the day you know, it was spring and clear so pretty. When I finally met the Abbess I felt no fear. She had the kindest warmest smile, it was like looking at the face of the Blessed Virgin. I was at home for the first time. I was so happy, the sisters were my family and friends. I was loved and accepted. I loved them and I loved God. Funny? I loved God, devoted and pious to Jesus and his Mother, Mary. Then the war came. The war with English. It didn’t affect us as much, it had been going on for a while, all my life. We tended to refugees, the wounded gave them food, shelter, prayed for them.  One night we let in a ragged band of five. It was a mistake. They were bloody and sorry looking. One of the sisters went to tend them alone. We heard her screaming. We found her dead, the fiends laughing they had killed her, drunk her blood. And they then they began the slaughter I think they killed half the covent. So much blood, screaming and terror. Prayers and begging for mercy didn’t work. They just laughed. We went to the chapel we barricaded ourselves there. Hoping they’d leave in peace, hoping Jesus would protect us. Their leader a bearded fellow called out that they wanted the hunch-back they’d take me and let my sisters live if I came out. So I did. I went to them. They stood in the darkness. I was so scared. I was reciting my catechism over and over again rosary in my hand. They grabbed me and held me. The other four moved at a speed I’d never seen, blocking off the every door to the chapel with whatever they could find, they doused in oil. They set it a light. I remember the screams of my sisters in the night. Looking up at the uncaring stars, and suddenly... there was no God, No Jesus, No Mary. And then I felt one of them sink their fangs into me. I welcomed death.”

“But you didn’t die,” I said.

“No, that was their joke,” Sister Anouk said. “Their big joke, turning me into a vampire. They thought it was so witty. Making such an ugly thing into a vampire.”

“Did you forgive them?” I said thinking how I forgave Fred and Lucinda, mostly.

“No never, there is one that still walks but has she not come back to France. The rest I have terminated, personally. I hear the lone survivor is afraid of her shadow.” Sister Anouk said.

“If you are an atheist why wear the habit then?” asked Fred.

“For the memory of those innocences who where massacred in 1355, including the sweet girl I was then,” Sister Anouk said.

“You know,” Fred said. “I never told you how I was turned. Funny story really.”

“Funny?” I said.

“Yes, more cheerful then Sister Anouk,” Fred said. “No offense.”

Sister Anouk said: “None taken. Now if you excuse me, I have to go back down below. I need sustenance. It’s been a three months and sadly I require it now.”

And she left us.

“So how were you turned, Fred?” I asked.

“Well firstly I had fairly normal sort of life you know. My family was well off. House in town one in the country. I was the eldest expected to follow in Father’s footsteps. Went to Harrow, then Oxford. I was all set to become a Stockbroker join my Father’s firm. This was 1894. I was already engaged to this girl met her at a ball, proposed at a house party. Her named was Edith Threpwood. Didn’t know if I loved her really, but she was alright perfect wife material. You see everything was coming into place for Freddy. Soon I’d have a career, a marriage, just what I should do you know. But I never really wanted it. Deep inside, I mean I was screaming and raging and kicking.”

I tried to picture Fred doing that ever, other then the times I’d seen him in the after kill frenzy he’d always been in absolute control. Stiff upper lip all the way and back. “Really?”

“Yes, quite. Well I had this friend from school. Funny chap, never married. Got sent down from Oxford, almost disowned lived more on his wits really. His name was... Stanley we called him ‘Bruiser’ When we were at Harrow we shared a room and we used to. well.. bugger each other... nothing wrong I suppose boyish fun. He never grew out of that. Also liked girls, very fond of tarts. And all sorts of perversions, Bruiser. I’d go out on the town with him we’d go slumming in the East end. He’d go the worst brothels. He told me they would let you do anything there. And he showed me, let me join. We’d share. That’s where I got the idea... To take a dagger with me. I’d put to a tart’s throat while I fucked them. I wouldn’t cut them or hurt them just tickle with it if that. It made it more thrilling the look their eyes! I would pay afterwards, I wasn’t bad. They got their three pence. So one night I was alone and I’d been doing this for oh I’d say three years? Yes it was 1894 so three years... I met this slut she didn’t seem any better then the rest. I went back to sorry room. And I got on top. I got out my dagger, I put to her throat. She reached up and crumpled it like it was made of paper. Then she rolled me over and pinned me to the bed, and revealed her fangs. It was Lucinda you know.”

 

“Really she turned you?” I said.

“Yes, she did.” He said. “Anyways. There I was frightened out of my wits this Lucinda pining me down with unnatural strength and she lectures me. Her voice changed totally different accent higher class more like my own, an she’s excellent actress.    
She tells me she’d heard all about me from the tarts on the street. She tells me if I go this way I’m bound to lose control and kill a girl. That I will dumb to run, that’ll be captured, disgraced and hung. Then she tells me, that I have the excellent making for what she is and that she would love it if I joined her. That the darkness is what I craved and she can give it to me. I considered briefly the opinions. It was hard because of the circumstances at the moment but I decided to join her. I told her. And then her manservant Davies came out from a hidden door. She owned the building. She took me to her town house. She turned me. Later we found a chap that looked a bit like me. We killed him, cut off his head, dressed him my clothes and chucked his body in the Thames. I was free to be with her.”

“So that’s how it started with you, Fred?” I said.

“Yes, I regret nothing.” He said. “It’s been the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Do you miss killing and fucking the bodies?” I said.

“I miss killing a bit,” He said. “But we can’t afford to do that anymore not when humans have ripped open their masks showed what monsters they are. Also... I fuck the bodies of those I kill?”

“Yes, you don’t know that?” I said.

 

“No, after I kill it all becomes sort of misty you know,” Fred said.

“You even fucked the corpse of my first victim,” I said.

 

“Hmmm,” Fred said. “Good thing there is no killing anymore then.”

 

Shortly after that Ersamo came up from the catacombs.  
He scowled at us with his ruined face. His bronze nose glinting in the dark.

“Her Majesty will see you now,” He said.

So we followed him down again. I heard laughter coming from the chamber. Lucinda’s laughter, mixed with another woman’s and Billie Holiday singing.

The other vampires of the court had left. On the floor was Rufina, Lucinda was beside her, neither of them had their shoes on. Their hair was down, they were smiling. Near them was goblets of blood.

“...and that’s what Aphra Behn said to the Earl of Rochester in front of the King! Charles of course roared with laughter. We both agreed Rochester deserved it! ” Lucinda finished.

They both burst into giggles like school girls.

“Oh, he did! He really did! Reminds of what Natalie Barney said to Liane de Porgy when she ran to her again at Maxim’s after it had ended between them....” Rufina began.

Then she looked up.  
“Hello there!”

“I see you have made it up,” said Fred.

“Yes,” Lucinda said. “We are friends again. Don’t worry nothing more, dearest. Rufina has others don’t you?”

Rufina nodded. “Yes. I’ve thought on it restarting it and no. I have my Jo for one, sweet mortal girl doesn’t want to be turned. To bad she’s fading already. And That butch Juliette she is so young for a vampire it’s refreshing. I’m going to miss Sister Anouk.”

“I thought she said, she didn’t like sex.” said Lucinda.

“She doesn’t. No interest. And I don’t like her in that way. We are the dearest friends though and she is a good advisor. And observer my subjects tend to talk freely in front of her.” Said Rufina.

“Glad to see you getting along,” Fred said.

“We fight like cats,” said Lucinda. “But we always make up in the end.”

“Eventually,” Rufina gave her a playful shove.

They both giggled. “You bitch!”  
Lucinda cried.

“You tart!” Rufina retorted.

And they broke down giggling.

“Tart? I’m not the one who is bound and determined to seduce Billie Holiday if she ever comes to Paris!” Lucinda said.

“Why not?” Rufina said.

I looked at Fred and he looked at me. “They were fighting at each other’s throats, it was...”

“..high melodrama...” Fred said. “Let’s just watch them...”

“Why?” I asked.

“Rather nice to watch gels play around don’t you think? I used to pay for it when I was human.” He said.

They turned to us. “Fred!” Lucinda chided. “You are awful!”

Fred smiled. “Darling I am a man.”

Rufina got to her feet. “You two must be starving. I haven’t been a good hostess.” She took a glass pitcher of blood from behind her. “It’s only from cows. But it’s warm and filling.”

She poured us out two goblets. We sat on the floor and talked. She told us about how she had danced at the Moulin Rogue, never drawing to much attention to herself becoming to famous or attracting the attention of Toulouse-Lautrec. That last part was hard and required mind wiping ‘the vile dwarf almost nightly’. She went there to dance because it was easy to get victims, stupid men who saw her as sexual exotic novelty. As she’d always been seen really. She talked of only killing Nazis when they occupied Paris. She talked little of her rise to power. And she talked of other things asked us about our lives and what we’d done so far.Even seemed interested in my boring life. She said she would make sure we would see all the famous sights of Paris. She could make it happen easily, snapping her fingers to show this. It was near dawn when she called on Sister Anouk to arrange a car for us.  
She embraced all of us and gave us a kiss on the cheek as a way of saying good-bye.  
What happened the first few nights? Well we saw the sights. We went to Louvre saw the great works of art, I remember the Mona Lisa because that’s famous. And Fred quoted something about her being a vampire. She wasn’t just a mortal woman whose husband had her portrait done. But everyone else said it fit for the painting. I didn’t get it. I just wasn’t impressed by that. I liked other things like the Michangelo, Caravaggio’s fortune teller, The ancient Greek, Roman, Mesopotamian stuff, Some of Da Vinci’s other things and that Bosch guy’s Ship of fools not just because he had the same last name as me. I don’t know art but I know what I like. Next night was another museum the Musee D’orsay. Lucinda and Rufina enjoyed most of the painting there and making rude gestures at the Lauctrecs. Fred and I, didn’t get most of them. Well we liked the Burn-Jones, they looked swell. The girls didn’t agree. The sculpture was okay normal stuff. I was worried when I’d heard this was a modern art museum that the sculpture would be a urinal. I heard some crazy French ‘artist’ did that. The next night we went to the top of the Eiffel tower. It was fantastic, best view ever. Everything below was tiny lights. And it got better. The girls could lift us out of tower into the air and we floated there. I was terrified that Rufina would drop me or wasn’t strong enough. But she was. It was better then anything. And the next night we went to Norte Dame Cathedral. I only knew about it from the book and movie. I’d read the book, pretty sad ending. I’d would never admit that cried like a girl at the ending. But the Catherdral was beautiful inside and out. Rufina and Lucinda had been around to see it go up. They had eaten some of the workers who had built it in fact. I’d never seen an old world cathedral. We’d had churches in our town and in the places I had visited in the US and in England but I’d never been in one. It was amazing. So I guess for anyone who didn’t already know. We can go in churches, synagogues, temples, mosques, sacred groves and standing stones. I mean why would holy objects have affects on us? Rufina, Sky and the first vampire Lamastu where around before all the major religions came around. And these days there is night church. Because the theory goes: God loves, forgives and offers salvation to all through Jesus. So many Protestant denominations(no Catholics haven’t budged an inch neither have a few evangelicals) Have opened up night services for vampires. I can tell you at first that Westboro Baptist Church was out there waving signs, but there are to many churches for them to protest now.  
And stiffs have shown up in droves. So many of us crave forgiveness and salvation. Me naw, never was into the whole God thing. My faith began to crumble when my Dad killed himself and died when Mr.Pelley shoved it down my throat. I’ve also heard that some of more liberal branches of Islam and Buddhism are letting us stiffs back in. (Though I’ve heard Buddhist stiffs usually end up meditating or attempting to meditate at sunrise.) Also those night time Sunday services are not nice for the people who work at a church. When I worked at Sanguine. There was a sexton at this church who I used talk to before I went to work: we were kind of friends older, Irish American, transgendered funny as hell. And hated the fact stiffs now went to church because her working day was now longer and blood is a bitch to get out of a carpet.  
But back to the past. I was in 1950’s Paris. We’d seen everything I thought was important. And then the others got snotty. They just became this gang of three. I don’t think it was on purpose, but they’d all been around longer then me. I was born in 1920. I’d around a total of 33 years. Together their age about 3,000. And they all knew Latin and History. Even if Fred hadn’t been around for as much as Lucinda and Rufina. So they talked about people, places that didn’t exist anymore, things I hadn’t seen happen. And then they’d joke around in Latin. For the first time I’d felt like the odd man out. I swear they were joking about me in Latin right in front me. So I sulked and went off on my own. They didn’t seem to care. They let me go and explore Paris. My French was good enough, I could get by.

I wandered around the left bank on my own for a few nights. I listened to some jazz in a few places. Hung out on the sidelines. I just wore a green pullover and some boring brown pants. Had my hair slicked back with pomade. Stood on the sidelines, watched the people smoke, drink, and flirt. I hardly talked to them. But this one night. There was this school girl. I don’t remember her name Cozette or Madeline or Gigi it doesn’t matter. She had to be 15 at the most. But she was cute as button. Maybe she wasn’t a school girl or fifteen year old hooker who dressed as one. But she was still cute. She wore this navy blue sailor suit, knee socks that showed off her pretty legs and she had a straw boater with a red ribbon on her blonde hair. She had the cutest face like a doll. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, whisper sweet nothings and sink my fangs into white girlish neck as she squealed like a mouse. Yes, the last bit isn’t as nice but thats the way we think. I was pretty obvious the way I was looking at her. She came over to me. She told me she wanted a cigarette and asked if she could have one. I said I didn’t have any, but I’d buy her a pack. She told me that would lovely. I asked her what she’d liked, she said: Gauloises brunes So I went off to the nearest store. I bought a pack of them and a lighter because I didn’t have one. I went at normal human speed. I didn’t want to seem weird. When I came back, she was gone. I asked the people she was with where she went. They laughed me. I was this dumb American. They said she went away with her boyfriend. I just stood there feeling like a chump. So I walked away, hearing their scornful laughter in my ears. I wanted to kill all! I could technically rip them limb from limb. But we were on public on a street, I couldn’t mind wipe anyone. And I knew that Fred, Lucinda and Rufina would come down on me like a thousand pounds of lead. So I just kicked so trash down the street and when I out of sight. I ripped a phone booth off the street and flung down the street. Then I picked back up and put where I’d found it. It wouldn’t work, and was slightly off center but no one would know until the morning. I think also kicked over some flowerpots and ripped a few window boxes off. It calmed me down. It was dark so I found this bistro that was open. I sat outside and I ordered a glass of red wine, the cheapest they had. It smelled like sour grapes. But I thought I had to get something. 175I sat there thinking about how crap everything was. The packet of Gauloises and the lighter sitting by my hand. And hour must have gone by. I wondered what the stiffs I was with were up to. Something pretentious no doubt, discussing some 19th century obscure poet they all met and what a prick he was. 

I heard footsteps coming down the street, getting nearer and nearer. I didn’t look up. I could smell a someone a young man, his sweat, the dirt on his skin, the streets he’d slept on and the smell of his unwashed clothes. Another person. He had stopped in front of me. And then I looked up. He was beautiful. Not in the conventional sense. He had a lean, scraggy look not starving he held himself with pride. His skin was tawny and lovely. And his nose was long and aquiline but not ugly. He had red, full, cupid’s bow lips. Dark large eyes with thick full lashes and thick brows. He wore dirty black rimmed glasses. And a shock of mad shiny, black hair. He looked feral and wonderful. I could hear his pulse in my ears. And then he spoke: “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Sure.”

I pulled one out. I gave it to him and the lighter. I looked him over as he inhaled. He was wearing a very shabby leather jacket, the green button down shirt under it had seen better day (and button down was not really fair as it was missing lots of buttons). His jeans were patched and stained.

“Thank you,” He said and began to walk off.

“No,” I said. “Stay here, I’ll get you something to eat.”

“No, trust me,” He said. “You don’t want me around no one around here likes my kind.”

“Come on,” I said. “I lived rough once too. I know what’s like. I’ll get you a meal and some wine, least I can do. I’ll pay. They won’t say anything because your my guest.”

“I don’t know if that will work,” He said. “But fine. I haven’t eaten all day and some wine would much appreciated.”

So he pulled up a chair and sat down at the table next to me. I got the waiter to come over. The waiter looked at my companion as if I’d just invited a roach to dine with me. I had no idea why, I figure something to do with French snobbiness. He got some kind rabbit casserole, fries, cheese and a bottle of red wine the priciest they had. I didn’t care I could afford it. I just wanted to be with him. I really did, it was love, lust or something and at fist sight. That french bimbo had left my mind totally.

“Before you eat,” I said. “I want to know your name and where your from. I’m Al. I’m from America.”

“America?” He said. “I met Americans before. That explains you. Americans so kind and generous. Me? I’m from all over. My name? Well since I’m in France I’m going by a French version of name Michel.”

I blinked. “Isn’t a girl’s name?”

“Not here. And don’t say that so loud. There are very large, mean tattooed longshoremen with that name. They would give you a bad beating for saying it.” Michel said.

I laughed and he joined in. In a little while his food came. He demolished it. He really hadn’t eaten in a while. I suspected he lied when he said it was just a day. He also drank the wine like he’d been in a desert for a month. I let him. And then we talked. What did talk about as the night went on, the bottle got lower and he smoked my cigarettes? Well life, philosophy, and living rough. Neither of us had read books on it. They make my head hurt. And later I found out Michel was almost illiterate. The bistro was closing for the night. We had to leave. And I knew if I let Michel go, I’d never see him again. He was drunk. His arm was around my shoulder. His body was so warm, and his breath was tickling me. I could hear his heart beat. He was smiling. He looked at me. I looked at him. I wanted to kiss him. I really did. But doing that in those days? It was fine among vampires or with certain groups of humans. But I didn’t know.He was smiling at me and then he leaned over and gave me wine soaked kiss a full, wonderful,a kiss. And I kissed him back. When he broke off he frowned.

“I’m drunk you know,” He said. “I’m not...”

“Neither am I,” I said. “But tonight who is going know or care? Let’s go to my hotel.”

He smiled again and nodded. I was lying. So was he. I wanted him so badly, every bit of him. More kisses, more holding, sex of all kinds and to drink him. And hopefully he’d love me? Well I was stupid about him. So I got a cab. Yes,I had that much spending money. Ignored the stares at the front desk. We kissed like mad in the elevator. I really wanted to drink his blood right then and there. I could feel him through the fabric of jeans. We went to my private room. He wanted to take a shower. So I let him. He came out wet, clean and smelling better. I laid him on the bed Not going to go into detail but I am going to say that I was much better at giving blow jobs in 1953 then I was in 1936, also I liked it better. Big difference between giving one to some smelly, fat, ugly schmuck in an alley who you don’t like and a handsome, nice smelling, naked guy who are crazy about. And for your information fangs do not retract ever, it’s fun but work too. After Michel bucked up and exclaimed something in a language I didn’t know. It was my turn for fun. I let him catch his breath. Then he rolled over got ready. And well... It was wow. Wow. The fangs came out and I had to do everything not bite him. I bit the air I gulped and yawned. He had done this before, I could tell. Despite what he had told me. All of it. But I wasn’t going to judge. We spooned afterward.  
I was hoping I could maybe coax another round out of him. I hadn’t been with a human since Mexico in 1940. And I was trying to recall how long to wait. I was holding his left arm. And saw that there was tattoo on that forearm a crudely drawn row of numbers and the letter Z.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He covered his arm protectively  
When he looked at me, there was hurt and pain in his eyes.

“Its nothing. Don’t look at it,” He said there was anger in his voice.

“Fine,” I said.

So I just left him alone. I wanted to feed. I couldn’t eat him. I guess we could lay together until morning. I was to young not to feed for in two nights. And this was second night I hadn’t. I knew the shakes would come by night three. I was feeling bad. Fred and Lucinda had food, they had animal blood in their room. I could go and get some.  
Michel slept after a while. So I got up carefully put on a hotel robe and crept slowly through the adjoining door.

Fred was doing the Times crossword in an arm chair, he was wearing pajamas. Lucinda was lounging on a sofa laughing through a book called the Devil’s dictionary.

I poured my myself a glass of blood and drank it down.  
Fred looked up. “Picked up a bit tail did you?”

“How did you know?” I asked.

Lucinda glanced up. “We heard you through the wall.”

“Oh,” I blushed. “Well he’s not just that. I really like him. He’s special. I think we have a real connection.”

“Ssssh,” Fred said.

They both listened to something, I could barely hear it.

“He took something off your nightstand.” Lucinda said.

“He had glasses.” I said.

“Could be that...” Fred said.

They listened a bit more. “Now he’s removing your wallet from your pants.” said Lucinda.

“It could be a packet of cigarettes,” I said.

“True,” said Lucinda

We all listened. I heard the door of my room close and his feet on the carpet running. I was out of that hotel room faster then ever. I saw Michel in the hall, he had a second to see me as he turned. I tackled him. He looked into my eyes. There was utter terror. He shielded his face with his arms.

“Mullo!” He screamed. And then babbled a bunch of things I didn’t understand in his own tongue.

I realized my fangs had popped out. I retracted them. He was shivering. I grabbed his arm and I dragged back into the hotel room. I sat him on the bed. He was still babbling that gibberish tongue.

“What did you steal from me?!” I demanded.

“Just your wallet and watch, don’t kill me, mullo!” He said.

“What?” I said.

“You are a mullo,” He said. “The undead.”

“You mean a vampire.” I said.

“Yes! Yes!” He said. “Fine! Whatever you want!”

I ordered a bottle of something strong from room service. It couldn’t come fast enough. He was a gibbering, shaking mess. I had told him over and over again. He was fine I wasn’t going to hurt him. He didn’t really talk much. Just acted stupid. I popped my head into Fred and Lucinda’s room. They told me it I made this bed now I had to lay in it. Finally room service came. I paid them and gave Michel the bottle. He drank, he was good at that.

He calmed down once the booze hit his system.

“Okay you know what I am,” I said. “What are you other then a thief.”

“I am Romani,” Michel said. When I looked confused. He laughed and went on. “A gypsy, you dumb American.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Not all of us, tell fortunes or steal chickens or play the fiddle.” He said.

“Yeah you abuse people’s kindness, fuck them and steal from them,” I said.

“It’s fair,” He said. “You aren’t one of us. You are gadjo. Then again I’ve been gadjo more or less since....”

He sighed and took a massive swig and then he began to cry. He didn’t tell me anything else. He spent the next night and day in a drunken haze. At first I tried to get Fred and Lucinda to help but they told me. He was my human I had to take care of him. So did. We talked, made love, he drank and smoked. Didn’t seem to care I was a vampire anymore. The story came out in bits over the next couple of days. He was a gypsy. He never told me his real name. His people had traveled around  western europe doing what they could to live. And they lived by their rules. It wasn’t easy. No one liked them. Why should they? The gadjo and romani had never gotten along for many reasons. Bad things on both side. Then Hitler and his nazis came. The Romani were rounded and shot like animals. Michel, his people, and his family. They were all taken to Buchenwald. He was deemed strong enough to work so was his father. He never saw his mother, his sisters, his little brother or the girl he was promised to marry again they were put in the other line. The one the to the gas chamber. His father died, malnutrition and disease took him within a year. And the guards treated his body like trash. I listened. I stroked his hair, I let him cry, I held him and as he let the rage and sadness out.  
 The camp was liberated in 1945. Among the survivors there was no one he knew. And he ended up going away with an American soldier, a man who became is his lover. But the Rom. Eventually left the soldier went back to his fiancée in the states. Of course everyone else in Europe knew what he was and hated him. His own people were strangers. So he was alone. So it was awful and stupid. An outcast from his people and no one else would trust him.

And then one day we were laying there in bed. And said to him: “You know the bastards who did this to you. You could get them. All those fucking Nazis. The guards in camps. I mean we have trials all the time. But I bet we haven’t gotten them all.”

“What are you saying?” He said and took puff of his cigarette.

“I could turn you into a vampire, you could hunt them down. Kill them all.”  I said.

And he grinned at me. “I could,” He said. 

“Yes,” I said. “So you do want to?”

“of course.” He said. “How will it work?”

The conversation was as simple as that. I was as stupid as that as noble and misguided as that.

He exposed his neck to me, and I bit into it. I drank deeply of him, I hadn’t done that in a long time. He was holding me the whole time, so close and at first tightly but as swallowed more and more of his blood he grew weaker. I think he was type AB which is very rare and tastes well... can’t say exactly how it tastes but his blood there a certain gameyness to it other blood types don’t have. When his pulse was very faint and his grip on me was weak. I carried him to the hotel bathroom and laid him in the tub. He looked at me with bleary eyes. I bit open my own arm.

“Now drink from me,” I said. He hesitated. He tried to lift his head but was to weak. So I lowered my arm.  
He began to lick and suck at my bloody arm. At first weakly and then he latched on with a death grip was really going at it almost pulling me over. That’s when I yanked it away. He sat bolt upright trying to grab at me and I pushed him down. His mouth was a bloody sloppy mess.

“Alright,” I said. “Now you change. I hope.”

Michel went through the change, which is pretty horrible as I did and every other vampire did. I nursed him through it like Fred and Lucinda did for me. I cleaned him off, and rinsed all shit, piss and vomit down the drain. He was out cold by the time he was done with all of that.

He was still out like a light when I walked into Fred and Lucinda’s suite. Lucinda came out the bedroom naked, bite marks on her neck and breasts looking content and half asleep. I was drinking some cold and sticky blood from a pitcher it was going bad.

“Hello,” Lucinda said. “Fred is tired. I wore him out. We wanted you join. But we decided you were busy with your friend.”

I made a face because of blood.

“Yeah,” I said. “You know where we could get like a call girl? I’d like something human for a change.”

“Why?” Lucinda said. “Rufina has  given us a constant supply from her butcher. I know that’s stale but I was going to call her secretary get it taken care of.”

 

“Uhhh well I just got sick of you know the same old same old...” I said.

“Then go bite your friend,” Lucinda said.

“I can’t,” I said. “I want a girl...”

“..You know you there is no difference Al,” Lucinda said. And Then she looked at me gave me long hard look. 

“What race is your friend?” She asked.

“A gypsy.” I said.

“Oh no! Oh god, what did you do?!” She screamed.

“What?!” I said. “What do you mean?”

“FRED!” Lucinda called into the bedroom.

And Fred came out, he at least had put on some boxers. He had bite marks on his neck, chest and well right above the boxers.

“Yes darling what is it?” Fred sighed.

“Al has turned a gypsy!” Lucinda shouted.

“Oh Fucking Hell!” Fred swore

“He has a name!” I protested. “He’s called Michel!”

“Really? Is that what he told you his name was?!” Lucinda said.

“...yes... well he said..” I  said.

“Not his name is it?” Fred said. “They never give their real names.”

“No,” I sighed. “Well you didn’t know me, when you turned me!”

“Yes, but we had lived in that city for a decade and a half!” Lucinda said. “We weren’t visiting! I mean it is done...”

“...but it’s very bad form you know... like seducing your host’s wife at a house party.” Fred said.

 

“And he’s a gypsy!” said Lucinda.

“So?” I said.

“We don’t turn gypsies!” said Lucinda. “It’s a rule! Last thing we need is gypsy vampires!”

“What’s wrong with gypsies?” I said.

Fred and Lucinda looked at me like I was a dribbling moron.

“Long story old chap,” Fred said. “Don’t want to get into it.”

 

“Fine,” I said. “So what do we do?”

“We tell Rufina,” Lucinda said. “And she gets her people to take care of your mistake. Hopefully she forgives us and we can leave the city in peace.”

“WHAT?! NO!” I shouted. “Your letting her kill Michel!”

“Well technically you killed him,” Fred said. “He’s very young. It won’t take much effort.”

“NO!” I cried.

“Look you are attached.” Lucinda said. “But you’ll get over it. There are others out there, Al. You can make more later. When you know better.”

 

“NO!” I screamed. “If try that, I’ll fight them! I will! You can’t stop me! And if you do, I’ll kill myself!”

Lucinda and Fred exchanged long looks.

“I don’t think he’s bluffing,” Fred said.

“Well...” Lucinda began.

“We are fond of Alwin,” Fred said.

“Yes, we are,” Lucinda said.

“And I do think he is quite  earnest,” Said Fred.

They looked at me.

“Fine, we won’t tell Rufina what you did. Just makes sure you get our laws, even the new one across to him, quickly and he leaves by next Sunday.” Lucinda said.  
It was Wednesday.

I looked at them. “Okay tell me why we can’t turn gypsies.”

Fred looked me. “We of course had fed on them at first, because the were nomadic and seemed easy targets. It turned out well... some them had powerful magic they used against us. It scared us. The vampire senate and the gypsy leaders at the time  came to an agreement. We wouldn’t feed on them or turn them. We’d leave them alone any vampire that didn’t they could dispose of. And they’d leave us alone for the most part.”

“Ah,” I said. I realized how bad I’d just fucked up.

“Yes,’ Lucinda said.

“He doesn’t consider himself a gypsy anymore and hasn’t been with other gypsies since 1945. Does that help?” I said.

Lucinda looked at me. “You know It doesn’t hurt. I guess. He’s your problem.”

 

“Why’d you let me feed on him?” I said.

“Well feed on has changed hasn’t it, used to mean drain and kill.   Now not anymore right?” Lucinda said. “I was going to mind wipe him for you. Until we found out you turned him.”

Fred was writing something down with hotel pen on hotel stationary. He turned and handed it to me. “Here the name and number of an escort service. Nice pretty, girls, run by one of us. They know the deal if you want a bite. They keep quiet. Just keep the young one in line. Lucinda and I used it when you busy with him.”

He also gave me a wad of cash.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome, old man.” He said.

I took the number and went back to my room. Michel was beginning to stir. I got the girl. She came up looking quite normal in a coat. Then the coat came off and whoa. She knew what we were about like Fred said. She sat on the bed demurely, pushed her blonde hair back and turned her to Michel. He had confusion about the fang bit like I did, then went right to it. I let him feed for five minutes. Then I stopped him. I worried for the girl.  
I got rid of the bite mark with my blood. Paid her the whole wad. She grinned widely and said in a whispy tiny voice: “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur!”

After she left Michel got up wiped his mouth and yelled: “Why didn’t you let me kill her?!”

“Because we don’t kill anymore!” I said.

“That’s dumb!” Michel said.

“That’s the way it is,” I said. “You can kill your nazis, but not those you feed on, older vampires over 100 can erase memories or put a limited hypnotism on humans but we can’t. So mostly stick with animals or buy blood at a butcher shop.”

“Ugh,” said Michel.

“It’s the way it is now,” I said.

“I want to go,” said Michel.

“No,” I said.

“What?” Michel said.

“Look, I have I lot to tell you and it took me a week to learn it. So I have to tell all of it,” I said.

“A week?!” Michel said. “I’m going stay here a week!”

“You have a lot to learn about what you are and the rules of being a vampire.” I said.

“Fine,” Michel said. “Just not a week.”

“Well we have five days anyways,” I said.

“Not five days,” Michel.

The thing is I really had hoped that after I turned him. Michel would love me. Like I had loved him. It wasn’t even love. I see that now it was infatuation. And he was still beautiful even when he was frustrated with me. Fred and Lucinda had made up excuses as to why, I couldn’t go to the events Rufina had planned for us. They even had a tailor come in and get Michel measured for some decent clothes. So I spent about four and half nights with Michel in my suite explaining everything I could about being a vampire. Sometimes Fred or Lucinda would pop in and help. We lived on pig or cow blood. Sometimes the tension was broken by a quick angry fuck all fangs and up against a wall. Usually me and him. Once me and him and Fred. Once him and Fred. Fred made him cry. I liked that on so many levels. By the end all the lovely feels had for that wandering gypsy were gone. I watched walk into the night with money in his new wallet and a new suit on his back. With a feeling of relief tinged with sadness. Our travels took us to Italy next.  
Sometimes when I’m bagging groceries Michel’s face swims up before me. Imagine him somewhere in South America ringing the doorbell of some elderly nazi. A man who thinks he has long escaped justice. The old man will open the door and suddenly see a face from the past. We have to be invited in. I bet the shock alone is enough to get Michel in. He sends me news clippings of his deeds, mostly in english, never with a return address. If there are pictures with them he sends them along. They are gristly and were much better when newspapers had them in black and white. 

I’ve seen and done enough. The way I came to be here was violent enough. I was working at a gas station slash convenient store out near Rochester, it after midnight. There was me and another customer. The year was 2006. Vampires back had resident non citizen status in the united status. It meant we could live here but had virtually no rights. Also the vampire senate had passed through the law when we came out in 2001 that we were subject to mortal authority. So there I was, behind the counter of this store, bored doing my job. Waiting for the customer to decide between chips or cheetos. When this guy comes in he was really nervous and shaky. He demanded that I open register the and give him all the cash. I said no. I pressed the silent alarm yeah, I’m vampire but I would rather have police handle it. He takes out a pistol and points it at me. Yells and swears about opening the register. I tell him that he shouldn’t threaten me. He laughs and tells me not to get clever. He has the gun and he said and I quote: “open the register and give me the money, motherfucker! Or die!”  
I don’t. I tell him calm down. And then he makes a mistake. He shoots me, twice in the chest. I felt the impact of the bullets knocking to the floor it was shocking and horrible. It went black after that. Next thing I know, where the robber was is a pile of bloody ribbons. I’m covered in what was him. And the other customer they are screaming a high pitched non-stop scream. The cops will be coming. The guy shot me, he was trying to rob the place. But I killed him. That won’t matter to the human police none of it will. I’ll be staked, I’ll be staked. The hysterical customer will give bad account of this. Yeah, I was scared. We had no rights back then. It didn’t matter what human did to you. You were guilty by default. I knew that. The other human was still screaming it was annoying. I wasn’t going to kill them. I wanted to but I couldn’t it would be bad. So I took my cellphone and I dialed up the local Master vampire. I was lucky, I managed to get them directly. They were very understanding, I had defended myself and the human, no reason to turn me over. Quicker then you could say Jack Robinson they showed up. They had some stiffs clean up the ex-robber and me, mind-wipe the customer, and get rid of the security tape. And then the Master vampire told me I had to leave that area forever. So I moved from Rochester to here.

All of that changed the next year in 2007 with Amos Jones. In November just before thanksgiving five thugs with sawed off shotguns attempted to hold up a crowded mini-mart in Detroit. They were gonna take hostages and rob it. What they didn’t count on was Amos Jones. Now it was about 5:00 pm just after sunset and dark. Amos Jones was (and still is) a vampire barely 100 years old, black, worked as janitor didn’t look tough or mean, just an average guy. He was buying a six pack of cow blood from the back freezer when the thugs showed up. Well apparently four of the thugs ended up in the hospital in critical condition, one died but that was because one his buddies shot him in the throat while trying to get a fix on Amos. All the other innocent humans came out safe and unharmed. Amos was a national hero. He was all the talk shows. They even filmed an segment of Oprah at night so he could be on it. He shook hands with the President and testified in front of congress. The fact he was born-again helped as well. And this is how stiff became citizens. Amos well, he had his 15 minutes. I heard now he going around the country doing talks about jesus.  
We are citizens now we have full rights mostly, just if our employer finds out we are vampires and doesn’t like it they can fire us. A landlord can deny us an apartment. A bank can tell us that we can’t open an account there. A store can tell us not to shop there. As I said the bill is going through congress now. The republicans are putting a fight. They didn’t put as much as a fight one for the weres. So what if are genetically pre-disposed to turn into a big hairy ravenous animal at will? That’s fine.    
Icthyo Americans well they have tougher time, I think it’s their traditional religion that gets the right wingers mad. But according to the Icthyo Americans not many still worship the elder gods. But their bill has at least passed the Senate. However we all are better off then the magic practitioners. Who normal humans hate, there something going with magic practitioners other supernaturals know it but normal humans they just think that magic some kind of thing anyone can do, so they shouldn’t be treated any different. I’ve read conflicting things about it and the magic practitioners who don’t exactly have real name for themselves aren’t forthcoming with details. So what I’ve gotten is stuff from vampires, things online, and third hand gossip. So I have no idea what they are. Maybe they are humans who just do magic or maybe they are something different because they have pop-rocks blood well that could be a lie vampires like to lie.  
One thing we like to lie about is famous people that have been turned into vampires. Many of the older ones love to mess with humans by saying ‘so and so is a vampire’ when they really are dead. Or not. I’m not telling it’s part of the fun.

I drive home in my horrible sky blue Dodge Omni. Another night more money earned, more stuff bagged. I even did some zoning. That’s straightening shelves. There wasn’t anyone around so I used my vampire speed, hellvua lot quicker. The radio doesn’t work so I listen to my ipod it’s on shuffle, Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time comes on. No, not that song. I think of Darleen, her sweet round face and blue eyes, the freckles on her little nose, her silly brown mullet, the dangly earrings and her jean jacket with the pins. Her warm arms around me as she held on when I sped down the highway on my chopper. The way she smelled like cheap perfume skin and sweat. And her dying naked in a cheap motel bathroom. It was my fault. Darleen is gone and dead. I can’t think of that. I’m not a pussy, or a sissy. I don’t cry about things like that. It was thirty years ago. It should be a eye blink to me. I’ve killed many more people, but they were on purpose. After that...well the robber and...

I get to my apartment. No more Cyndi Lauper other songs came on that did not remind of.... that. And then I saw the blood on the side walk, a dripping trail of it leading down to my stairs it was still wet and fresh. I bent down and I sniffed it. Had to know what it was. If it was something could drink or just a gross animal. It was... something different I’d never smelled anything like it. It smelled like blood of course but mixed with ozone and the way the air smells after a thunder storm. I considered tasting it but, it could be dangerous numb my tongue and for who knows how long. I could hear a heart beat in the stairwell. In the darkest  of my doorway lay the stray cat I’d been feeding. It was a wreck, some other animal had slashed it up good. There was blood pouring from gashes in it’s sides and face. It was breathing heavily and looking at me with bleary pain filled eyes.

“Oh jesus!” I exclaimed. I ran inside top speed, I got a towel, didn’t matter which one. I picked the poor pitiful little cat in the towel and took her in.

I laid her fragile body on the couch. I watched Pesky out of the corner of my eye. He hates other cats. And I was pretty sure he’d use this excuse to make the stray’s injuries fatal. However Pesky just looked at the stray took a sniff and ran into the bedroom, spooked. I got my cellphone. I have the local animal hospital as one of my numbers. Yes, it’s paranoid but Pesky once was vomiting blood. Turned out I’d left one of my cartons out and he drank it all. That on top of his normal food overloaded his tummy and well it was nothing really. But still can’t be to careful.    
I was hoping they’d be open at this hour. As their phone rang and rang. There was on odd twang in the air, like tasting yellow or seeing music. And I turned around.  There was no bleeding cat on the towel, on the couch any longer, instead there was a bleeding thin, naked, woman with long sandy hair and a cat’s eye crudely drawn on her left shoulder blade in red lipliner pencil.

“Oh crap,” I said.

What do you with a unconscious bleeding woman on your couch? I suppose if I was human, I’d take her to the ER. However being a vampire that wouldn’t look good. Yes, we are citizens and I do have the right to a fair trial. But I walked in there with this chick slashed up, and bleeding. With me being an undead blood sucking creature of the night. I’m not walking out of there free, the police are going to want a statement, I’m going be spending a day and night in a jail cell. Which may or may not let in the sunlight. However I don’t want her to die on me.  
So once again, the cellphone. I look through my contacts until I come to Sky.

It rings, and rings and rings. Oh please I hope it doesn’t go to voicemail. Someone picks up.

 

“Hi,” Sky sighed. “What can do for you?”

“It’s me,” I said. “This is important.”

“I hope it is,” Sky said. “I’m the middle of watching some undead hotties do some naked blood wrestling. It’s very sexy.”

I explained what had happened and then I said. “...so what should I do?”

“Calm down Al, get a knife cut big slash in your arm and rub your blood in her cuts.” Sky said.

“What?” I said. “But our blood only works on little superficial wounds.”

“Oh, you know so little,” Sky Sighed. “It’ll work on those too. As long they didn’t hit any organs she’ll be fine. Come back to and start talking to you. Enjoy your cat lady. Ohhh... their licking the blood off each other this is sexy..!”

And he hung up.

I didn’t have a knife. I had some scissors, dull scissors, I had to saw at my arm. It worked. I rubbed my blood into her wounds and they vanished like they were never there at all not even scars. And then she opened her eyes. I looked at her face, she was young like about nineteen at the most, sharp featured reminded me of a bird. She covered herself.

“Oh god!” She cried. “What am  doing here!”

“I saved you, you were a cat and dying!” I said.

“Yeah I know, I used to come here and eat cat food,” She said.

“Why did you do that?” I said.

“Well it’s easy fill your belly when your a tiny cat then as a human,” she said.

“But cat food?” I said disgusted

“I got used to it,” She said with a shrug. “Not so bad after a while. Sort like cheap ass pate.”

“..so your a...” I began. “What do you like to be called?”

“My name or what branch magic?” She said. “Well I’m a mage. I guess. And I’m Abby it’s short for Abigail.”

 

“I’m Alwin,” I said. “Al for short.”

“Cool what spell did you do to heal my wounds?” She said.

“I... didn’t?” I said.

“Then did you do?” She asked.

 

I bit my lip. “Haven’t you ever wondered why you don’t see me in the daytime, Abby.”

“Your a vampire! OH NO! OH NO! You’re gonna eat me! OH Please! I don’t have spells on me save me!” She cried.

 

“HEY! HEY! I could have eaten you while you were passed on my couch!” I said. “I didn’t! I don’t eat people...anymore.”

“Really?” She said.

“Yeah,” Said.

She held out her pinkie. “Pinkie swear?”

“Does mean something different to mages then it does to humans? Like an ancient oath, Merlin did?” I said.

“No,” She said and smiled. “It’s just well, how I know I can trust you.”

I smiled back. “Fine.”

I took my pinkie and linked it with hers. Perfect. She broke it off.  
We sat on the floor. I was pretty sure my couch was ruined now. Oh well, just get another one off Craigslist or the side of the road.

“You must be a new vampire.” Abby said.

“Yeah,” said.

“I mean this place not really awesome like old vampires have. And you seem really nice. Old vampires aren’t nice,” She said.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“So be like what 10 year or 20 years undead?” She said.

I laughed. “Umm Seventy five.”

“What? My grandpa was seventy five, that’s really old.” She said.

“Not in vampire terms,” I said.

“I mean if your old why don’t you have a nicer place?” She said.

“Well for a while I had two older vampires taking care of me. Then I went out on my own for a while roamed around, didn’t have much to do with money. I don’t have much an education never finished high school.” I said.

“Neither did I,” Abby said wishfully.

“What happened?” I said.

“I was young and my powers had shown up. Magic isn’t a choice, it just happens whether you want it or not. It’s like a recessive gene that pops up. And you can’t control it. It’s energy that moves through you, and you won’t know how to control it unless you learn. There is no choice not to do it. But normal don’t think that. My parents didn’t.”

“What?” I said.

“They were really Christian. They thought if I prayed enough, I could get rid of it. That was bullshit. Well I thought to for a while. Then read some stuff online. Tried make them understand they didn’t so I left.” She said. “I was fourteen. Ya got anything to eat?”

I didn’t. I dressed  her in some spare sweats. We went to the supermarket. She wasn’t impressed by the Al-mobile. Especially the fact the passenger side door has to be held on by the passenger or it flies open. I was going to need to buy some toilet paper, I hope the toilet works I’ve never used it.

“So how’d you get all cut up?” I asked.

“Well,” Abby said. “Real animals don’t like people who turn into animals. Even the ‘thropes. They have two reactions. Either they run away or the attack you. And I met a angry raccoon.”

“Ugh,” I said. “You gotta rabies shot. Unless you got a spell for that.”

 

We pulled in the lot of the supermarket.

“Your car sucks,” Abby commented. “You don’t even have a radio.”

“Yeah,” I said. “They took a 100 dollars off if I let them take the radio out.”

“And you didn’t replace it?” Abby said.

“No,” I said. “I just usually wear my ipod.”

“Oh,” She said. “Do you have enough money for food?”

“Yes,” I said with a growl.

“Geez, don’t get all mad at me.” She said.

“Feeding you should be easy. Just get a bunch of fancy feast,” I said. “You like turkey flavor right?”

“No, I’m getting human food, smart ass,” She said.

So we got a cart. I started walking for the produce section.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting food,” I said.

“I don’t want that stuff,” She said.

“But that’s healthy,” I said.

“Yeah but I don’t like half that stuff and I can’t cook it,” she said. “Can you?”

“No,” I admitted. “and all mortal food and drink tastes like cardboard to me.”

“Yeah so not that,” She said. “I’m getting things I like. And can make.”

We got a lot of processed food.

“How long are you planning on staying?” I asked  mid way through this shopping spree.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” She said.

Well it wasn’t like I could kick her out and I am a sucker for the down and out.

Later on she sat on my couch eating a bowl of ramen. We where watching a cartoon on late night tv. The plot was like some guy finally was about to get laid only the girl who was about blow him saw the face of Jesus in his pubic hair and hilarity ensued. Abby was laughing and so I was. It was very different sort of cartoon they they showed before movies when I was alive. So we watched stuff on tv. Pesky came out. He sniffed her and rubbed his chin against hand saying:‘this is my new human.’

 

“He was scared of you before,” I said. “Didn’t you say real animals don’t like humans who turn into them.”

She was stroking Pesky and she turned and said: “Well if are in animal form. I’m not now.”

I reached over and began to stroke Pesky as well soon he was purring up a storm eyes closed in delight tail straight up. Then I noticed how close we were kinda stupid. I’ve avoided being close to humans like that. I moved away. Pesky jumped on her lap and made himself comfortable. She ate a pint of her ice cream. I drank some blood from a carton, this time I went for pricey stuff and got pig. Taste wise it’s like human without getting weird and buying chimp. She grew tired, stretched out and fell asleep. Pesky blinked his copper eyes at me. I turned off the tv and headed for my casket. It wasn’t nearly close enough to dawn to sleep but well I could pretend. The casket industry has really boomed since we came out. Behind the scenes we got the trend started to line it with cloth, put pallet in and add a pillow much comfier. However now with the Vlads and Camilla wanting caskets for sleeping it’s gotten weird. There luxury one with 300 thread count egyptian cotton sheets in every color or pattern you can think of, tempur pedic pallets, massaging pallets, king size, queen sized, All sorts of wood, gold, silver, and colored plastic. I think saw a pink hello kitty one online. Also custom things built in the inner lids alarm clocks (which I like the idea of) tablet computers, and flat screens tvs. Crazy stuff. Mine was expensive as it was. And it was pretty boring and normal. So I lay there in the darkness, waiting to sleep. Sleeping is different. It isn’t like the sleep of the dead. But isn’t like the way I slept when I was human. I guess the closet thing is being in a coma or knocked out. I’m thinking of Darleen again and I can’t sleep yet. When the sun is close to rising it’s hard to stay awake. But  sunrise isn’t close to happening. So I try to close my eyes. And the past comes back.


	5. Chapter 5

You might find it odd that a vampire has lost his taste for killing.  
So Lucinda, Fred and I we bummed around the rest of the world for a while: Asia, Oceania, Hawaii, in the late 70’s we were back in the lower 48 on the west coast. Around the time I remember I began to feel some resentment towards Fred and Lucinda. I felt like they never let me do anything on my own. Not since 1953 in Paris. They always had me nearby. They never let me think. And Lucinda dressed me for god’s sake! I was like a pet to them or a kid. They referred to me as their ward. Not just when we were human at whatever lux hotel we’re stay at. But when we LIVED in LA in that house in Beverly Hills. They called me that to Demetrio Hernandez other wise known as The Iron Heart, The Master vampire of Los Angles. the biggest badasses in the new world. He smirked at me and I was wearing the stupid dorky suit Lucinda had picked out. She she didn’t like any of the clothing I thought looked good, things that were in style in the 1970’s. I just wanted to disappear.

When it was 1985. We’d been to Las Vegas. Sister Anouk was the Master vampire there. She’d been since 1953. That’s where she left Paris for. The old Master vampire was to weak to hold the quickly growing city. She took it with ease. In 1985 she sat on on minimalist throne in a shimmering silver and white very 80’s room. She had abandoned her nun’s habit for custom tailored  Chanel power suits. The one she was wearing was charcoal colored and very conservative. I had known she was brunette but there was her hair it was in a glossy simple bun. She gave a very small smile when she saw us. The most colorful thing was a orange pekingese dog on her lap. It sat up and started yapping it saw us. It has a sparkly collar. Could have been rhinestones, however knowing that we stiffs don’t have high food bills and love to pamper our pets. I’m guessing it was diamonds.

“Sssh, Babette, sssh,” She cooed and petted the puffy mass of fluff, it shut up and laid back down. It was still glaring us from her lap.

“I hear things have been going well for you,” Lucinda said.

“Well?” Sister Anouk said with a laugh. “This is sin city. And trust me they have tried to find my sins and vices. All they’ve found is I am fond of chess, witty remarks, a rousing debate, knitting, needlepoint and manipulating fools.”

“So not so easy,” Lucinda said.

“Yes,” Sister Anouk said. “However challenges are fun. And the human Mafia. They know about us and they saw us push overs. Bad Bela Lugosi impersonators. I taught them better, quickly.”

 

“Good show,” Fred commented.

 

“Thank you,” Sister Anouk said.

I noticed something.

“You don’t sound French at all anymore,” I said.

“Well no,” Sister Anouk said. “I couldn’t come and assume power in THIS city sounding like some snobby maître d' or french maid. That would give them the wrong idea. I had to sound perfectly American, hollywood. It wasn’t just the mob. It was the vampires a sorry collection of cowboys, lapsed jews, fallen mormons and those who supported me.”

“Who did?” I asked

“The old whores with fangs, the Mexicans who despite gaining immortality had been treated as less then and the Indians those hadn’t drifted away.” She said. “And the others came around when They saw that I was better then that sorry fellow they had in charge.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“Him?” She smiled. “Well he’s in a nice tasteful urn. I keep on my mantel piece. The best part was his former chief supporter delivered it to me with his compliments”

“...that’s...” I began my brow wrinkling.

“The way politics work with us, you know.” Fred said. “Can’t ever be to careful. Your enemies don’t have just a lifetime to plot, they have forever and they can wait and scheme.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m never getting into politics.”

“Good idea.” Lucinda said.

Well, Sister Anouk made sure we got to see lots of shows. Like the best Elvis impersonator. I loved that and Tom Jones. Not so much a fan but Lucinda liked him. I’d been reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. I kinda wished I could get high, like Hunter S. Thompson high. Now, let me explain. When a vampire feeds off the blood of a human who has been on drugs they get the effects of the drugs. So as vampire you can get stoned on weed, nod off on heroin, go tripping on LSD, tweak out on meth, be coked up on blow and anything else. However you don’t get addicted also nice. But you can’t get drunk. It has very, very little effect. If a vampire were to drain the corpse of human who had just died of alcohol poisoning they feel slightly tipsy and that is it.   
Fred and Lucinda were squares. They didn’t feed on anyone seemed like they’d doing drugs. They’d both had horror stories they told me about accidentally feeding on opium or laudanum addicts. Not just them vampires they knew or had heard of having bad things happen to them when they mistakenly fed on a human who on drugs. Some the of stories included the vampires staking all their friends and the running into the sunrise in drug induced haze. Yes we had our own anti-drug urban myths.   
I’d been reading Kerouac and other things. I said before how philosophy made my head hurt before, but somehow back then I gotten my hands some Nietzsche. I was trying to read that. Still made my head hurt hard going trying to get what he babbling on about but I tried.   
So this one night in 1985 we were in this little city in New Mexico presenting ourselves to the Master vampire. An old fusspot with the name of   Mildred. We met her house, a Victorian from a horror flick.  We were in her sitting room, dusty, dark, cluttered and filled with lace doilies on everything. She dressed the part like someone’s maiden aunt, that never got the info that the 1890s were long gone.  
Apparently the night we arrived was also the monthly assembly and all the local vampires were there. They looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Mildred just sitting there in a high backed chair listening to her subjects various ideas and grievances. It was taking forever.

“Can’t we announce ourselves ask if we be here and leave?” I whispered to Fred.

“Not yet,” Fred said. “It would be rude. We have to wait.”

“But this taking forever,” I hissed.

“You know she can hear everything you say,” Lucinda  whispered back

“I don’t care,” I hissed back.

Mildred glared up from her chair at me she had dark eyes that glittered from a plain face. I scowled back. I had the feeling now it would take longer. Fine, the dried up old bitch would just suck away all the time from us. It’s not like I was having any fun anymore. I hadn’t been enjoying myself with Fred and Lucinda since the early 60s. Even the times they had sex with me wasn’t fun anymore.

There was bang and a slam. The door of the sitting room was had been kicked down. Four leather jacket wearing vampire boys strutted in. Their leader had blond hair in spikes and a diamond glittering in his ear.  He was the shortest. He was followed by two others, one was a Indian by that I mean native american, the other African american. They all wore black leather jackets and ripped acid washed jeans. Bad news bikers.

“Get out!” Barked Mildred.

“Why?” Said the blond vampire. “We’re here for the head count. We are in area now.”

And his companions chuckled.

“You’re not official subjects of mine,” Mildred said. “You’re outlaws.”

“Yeah,” said the Indian. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll get the vampire senate to wipe you out,” Mildred said. “You and your leader. The whole nest of you vermin!”

“Oh really,” said the Blond. “Because Sarge has been itching for the vampire senate to show up. Show them what real vampires can still do.”

“You just can’t do this you know,” Mildred said. “Disrupt our rules and laws, you 1/3rders, throw backs, savages! We all agreed to be more civilized. And your band---”

“SHUT UP!” The blond yelled. “All of you! Look at you! You are not real vampires any more! We used to be predators! We used to be superior to humans! We lost our spines! Cut off our balls! We might as well pull out our fangs! How many of you get some human to go the FUCKING  butcher for animal blood and warm on the stove? You what that is? THAT’S PATHETIC! No one in this room has ripped open a throat since before war!”

“But the humans are worse then us, how can we do that when they are the real monsters?” said a mousey female vampire in the corner. “I saw the pictures of what happened in Hiroshima.”

“YES!” Said the Black vampire. “THEY ARE! When I alive they tried to lynch me for something I didn’t even do! They almost killed me! If Sarge didn’t show up and scare off that mob of rednecks. He cut me down and turned me. That’s why THEY ALL DESERVE TO DIE! Every human is a monster Every man, woman and child is more of monster then all of us! We just kill to eat! They kill for hate! They kill for glory! They kill ‘cuz ya looked at dem funny, dey got to teach ya a lesson, boy’!”

 

And I found myself agreeing with what these strange vampires were saying. I’d never really thought about this issue before, but what they said was now making sense to me.

“Get out!” Mildred commanded. “You are NOT welcome in my domain. I am 300 and the Master of this area. My loyal subjects out number you. If you continue to trespass here we will cut off your heads and keep them as trophies, whelps.”

 

The blond vampire spit on floor, rubbed it in with a booted foot and then him and his two companions strode out. Fred and Lucinda were appalled by them of course. I kept my mouth shut for a while. However, after we had introduced ourselves to Mildred and so forth. I asked some of the local Vlads about the bikers. Where they could be found so I could avoid running into them well so I said.  And I got answers. They prowled a big stretch along the New Mexico, Arizona border mostly route 66, had a abandoned motel as a base. The ones we saw were just a couple of the Sarge’s big gang. They terrorized everyone mortals and supernaturals alike. Had human law enforcement scared. Had most small time Master vampires frightened. When they weren’t being terrors they liked to shoot pool, play darts and pick up unfortunate mortal women at a dive bar called: Rusty Calhoun’s. It wasn’t to far. Also they all rode choppers which weren’t even REAL bikes. According to another vampire who used to ride, before he made that comment to them and they destroyed his Triumph (which I’m guessing is a motorcycle).

 

The American Southwest was all the same to me: desert, mesas, scrubby plants, cacti, lizards, choking dust, scorching dry heat in the day and cold at night. The towns and cities were odd, half of the places accepted they were in the desert and looked like it. Half them of them didn’t and had bright green astro turf lawns and trees from some wetter place. I had no idea where they got the water. It was like the towns were a crazy bum who’d walk down the street having an  passionate argument with himself.   
We were staying in another town in the Hacienda of a rich vampire friend of Fred’s I forget his name. I didn’t like being there. I wanted to go to Rusty Calhoun’s.

I didn’t have the guts to leave at first. And then it happened we were all out near that guy’s pool. Lucinda was swimming in it. Fred had a deck of cards. I was just sulking. Our host was there. They were talking and Fred came over to me. Put his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

“Al, stop being such a poop. We need a fourth for bridge.” He said.

“I don’t want to play bridge,” I muttered.

“Fine,” Fred said. “Can’t think of any card game we can play then.”  
Fred walked away.

Lucinda was glaring at me. They wanted me to play some stupid, boring, card game, it would be all night. We’d sit there in the cold desert air, on this guy’s patio. Drinking luke-warm pig blood and playing cards, and this was how I was going to spend eternity. The idea of it made my head ache. I walked out of the patio. Lucinda followed me, she was dripping from the pool.

She caught up to me, turned me around and slammed me against a white plaster wall.

“This is how you treat our host?! You are acting like a stupid insolent, child!” She shouted.

“Leave me alone,” I growled.

“Don’t talk to me that way!” She barked. “I made you. I could have killed you that night.”

“Yeah if I knew I’d be spending the rest of eternity, drinking tepid animal blood and playing bridge with the most boring people ever. I’m thinking I’d let you kill me.” I said.

She slapped me. I growled at her and beared my fangs. She barred hers.

“You have no idea what immortality is Al. You have just started. It’s been what, sixty three years for you? You’ve barely started, you are a fledging. I am nearly a thousand and that is late middle age for our kind.” She with a smirk, she looked so pleased with her little speech.

I hissed at her, I roared, I grabbed her and slammed against the wall. She let me.

“I’m 65!” I screamed  
And then I ripped off her swimsuit, she was naked and her skin was slick and cold, like wet marble. I ground myself into She flung her arms around my neck, buried her fangs in my neck and her legs where around my waist in a instant. All I had to do was take down my pants. I wanted to, as I had countless times. I could have her, fuck out all my hate for her into her against this wall. Grunt, growl and scream, bruise her, beat her, maul her, I could do things to her that would KILL a human woman. It wouldn’t matter this is what she wanted. She would have me exactly where she wanted. And the next night, I’d be in the clothes she had picked out. Playing card games and drinking barely warm animal blood out of fiesta ware cups. And that killed my erection. I let go of her body. Her arms dropped from me, so did her legs. She looked up.

“Al? Al? What’s wrong?” She said there was my blood on her lips. It looked more like popsicle juice. Her eyes were big and innocent.  
She had lost her power.

I loved Lucinda she’d made me. I loved Fred. They were my family, my lovers, they had been my everything.  But I was so sick of them, everything about them. I just turned and walked out into the night. I never saw them again.

I walked until I came to the road. For a while I walked along the road. Then I realized I had no idea where Rusty Calhoun’s was. So I just stood there with my thumb out waiting. Must have looked odd. A kid in a nice suit, with nice hair, hitching late at night on a lonely desert road. I didn’t care. It took a while for a car to come a long. And it didn’t stop. Then it took longer before more cars came. Finally one stopped a big boxy seventies car in gold.

The driver was a red bearded fellow older and rough looked like he worked on ranch, smelled like it too.

“Where you goin’ boy” He asked as he smoked a cigarette.

“I want to Rusty Calhoun’s,” I said.

“Don’t blame you,” He said, “Rusty doesn’t care who he serves beer too, as long you got money.”

“What’s yer name?” He asked.

“Uhhh, Al,”I said.

“I’m Bob,” He said. “You not from here, you a Mormon?”

“No why are you asking?” I said.

“Well the suit,” He said.

“My..uhhh... Mom likes me in suits...”I said.

“Oh well Moms are like that, mine died from a bad heart. Not a day goes by that don’t I miss her.” Bob said.

We’d pulled up in front of Rusty Calhoun’s. It was not much, slightly bigger then a shack. It had a Red Neon sign on the roof saying the name. Beer signs in the windows. There were cars and Motorcycles parked in the dirt lot outside. I reached for door. Bob put an arm on mine

“Where you think you’re going boy?” He said.

“To you know...” I said.

“You think I took you here out of the kindness of my heart?” Bob said. He gave me a smilie showing me he didn’t have many teeth and ones he did were nothing to write home about.

Oh boy, this reminded of back when I was hustling. I hoped it wasn’t what I thought. “You want money? I’ll pay you.”

“No,” He said. I heard him unzip his fly. “I want you get down there and suck me off.”

He’d pulled it out and was fondling it. Yuck.

I got close to him. I bent my head, then. I went super vampire quick, biting him on the neck drinking from him until he passed out, not dead but well he’d dizzy and have hard time knowing quite what happened this night. I went through his wallet. He only had forty bucks on him, also picture of his dumpy wife and sorry kids. I wonder they knew what  he liked to do with young male hitchhikers. Took the money, wiped my mouth on his jacket and and slammed the door shut.

So I walked into Rusty Calhoun’s it was honky-tonk, dive. It was quiet. The jukebox was Metallica’s four horseman not really loud. I didn’t know the name of the song at the time, but I would later learn it, Sarge’s Army loved it almost their theme. There were some men at the bar they all looked like they were hard working types who needed their drinks. Women as well bar hags mostly: wearing things that showed to much of their leathery skin, to much make up and faded tattoos. And they were so quiet. Not hardly a peep from them. The guy behind the bar Rusty I guess he looked like a tough guy: huge beard that was red now with streaks with white in it, the rest of his remaining hair in a ponytail his bulk above the bar was in a white t-shirt with a jean vest over it. There was tv above the bar showing some sports the volume was down below the jukebox. The patrons looked at me when I walked in sort of pitying and sort of wary. I could hear laughing though now. Happy chuckling of adolescent guys and their crude jokes.  And them the blond, the Indian and the Black guy. They were in the far corner shooting pool in their leather jackets and jeans.

I straightened and walked up. they stopped laughing they stopped joking, they turned and glared.

“Little lord Fauntleroy, what do you want?” said the Black guy and then his whole body seemed spasm.

“I was there when you guys went to Mildred’s,” I said.

“Is that so?” said the Blond. “Did she send you to threaten us? Because like the demon the bible we are legion. And you are out of your depth here, asshole.”

“No, no...” I said. “You got the wrong end of the stick. I liked what you guys said. I want to join you.”

They laughed. “Dressed like some yuppy scumbag?” The Indian said.  
“We eat yuppies for dinner around here. I scalped the last bunch of yuppies that came around here.”

“Look, the fucking bitch who made me dressed me like this. I left there tonight. I left there tonight. I said I want to join you.” I said.

The Blond smiled. “Okay, fine. We shouldn’t be so hard on you. Just cuz you look like a yuppie right now doesn’t mean jackshit. Does it Sandcreek?” He looked at The Indian. “Besides you learned to scalp people from a book.”

Sandcreek the Indian growled and glared. “Yeah but...”

“You know the Sargent is going to say when we bring him back,” said the Black guy and he spasmed again.

“Yeah, he’s gonna give us a big pat on the back. Why do you think he ordered us to the old bag’s house in the first place? To get more stiffs on our side, Lem! Man, did you get brain damage when they lynched you?” Said the Blond.

“Shut up about that Jimmy!” said Lem.

“You shut up, I’m older then both of you! I out rank you both!” said the Blond. “I’m called Jimmy the drummer. You’ll find out later. What’s your name?”

“Alwin Bosch.” I said.

“Kraut, eh?” Jimmy said. “Sarge battled Krauts long time ago. back when he was an Optio under the Emperor Claudius.”

“Does he like them?” I asked.

“Oh, he doesn’t care,” said Lem. “As long you are a tough motherfucker and fight with us.”

“We have a member,” said Jimmy. “Let’s blow this boring ass place. Go celebrate at Baby Dolls.”

“YEahh.” Said Sandcreek.

Baby Dolls?” I asked.

“Strip joint,” Said Lem. “Nothing gets you going more drinking from then coked up stripper.”

“Those girls love nose candy,” Jimmy the drummer said. “They know what we are but they go with us for it.”

And we became to walk out the door.

 

“Heh, heheh they love my Johnson,” said Sandcreek.

“Let’s kill one of those  bitches tonight,” Said Lem. “We haven’t done in that two years.”

 

“One of the new ones I guess,” Jimmy said as he got to his bike. “That one ummmm.. Starlight... or Starla? She’s dumb as box of hair and her laugh ad annoying fuck. Doesn’t have any family either. Drain the bitch.”

“Speaking of bitch,” Said Sandcreek. “Al since you don’t ride and none of these are yours. You are gonna have to ride bitch.”

“Bitch?” I asked.

“Oh Jesus,” sighed Jimmy. “Ride on the back.”

“Oh,” I said.

“You know,” Said Lem. “One less stripper, tonight.”

“Damn,” sighed Jimmy. “Well two new girls then. The Bimbo and the one who’s junkie but scared shitless of us.”

And the nodded.

I chose Jimmy’s bike. Sandcreek had scalps on his saddlebags all hair colors. And Lem his whole body spasmed every couple minutes. I was worried it would effect his driving. It didn’t do anything to his driving really. That was because of his near death by lynching it caused bad nerve damage that didn’t get reversed when he was turned even though it was thirty seconds after he was cut down.

Baby Doll’s wasn’t subdued. There was big obvious Betty Boop/Marliyn Monore Cartoon rip off girl Swinging around a pole in PINK neon on their sign legs in the air. Other big light up panels advertised: GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS! EXTOIC DANCERS! TOPLESS! also the obligatory beer signs.

They stopped the bikes. They cut engines. Put them kick stands and we began to strut in. The bouncer stopped us.

He was big guy of course clean cut. Don’t remember much else.

“Hey,” He said. “IDs?”

“We don’t need IDs,” said Lem.

“You’re new aren’t you, Luis quit didn’t he?” said Jimmy.”

“None of your business.” said he Bouncer. “Aren’t you kids a bit to young to be coming in here?”

Now the bouncer must of been of high end of Six foot scale of height and Jimmy well he was about Five foot five I think. Jimmy just grinned, reached up took the bouncer by the neck, tightened and lifted the bouncer off his feet.

“Aren’t you a little to be  alive  saying that?” Jimmy grinned showing his fangs.

We all showed our fangs. The bouncer’s eyes were bugling in terror. He sputtered out of breath motioned to be put down.

“Geez,” said the Bouncer, his tone was apologetic now terrified. “I swear I didn’t know it was you guys. I didn’t mean anything. Please leave me alone. I have a wife and kids.”

“Yeah shame if anything happened to you or them,” said Jimmy with another fangy grin.

We all laughed and walked by.

“You guys have a nice night,” said the Bouncer as we passed his voice still quivering with fear.

“See!” said  Lem giving me a pat on the back. “THAT is how humans should treat us!”

“Yeah, respect and fear! They are cattle. We used to get that back in the old days, Sarge says so. But now they all want pussies. You don’t want be a pussy do you Al?” Said Jimmy.

I looked around the strip club. There were human women mostly blonde and beautiful. They weren’t wearing much and they were dancing, gyrating all sexy. They knew we were here and what we were. There was fear in the air of that strip club. Thick as the cigarette smoke. And at that moment, it felt good to be feared.

The strippers seemed happy to see us, at least they were smiling, being bubbly as soda pop. Half of them had grins which were as fake those painted on a clown. They reeked of fear under their perfume and make up. Their pulses thumped faster then machine drum beats. The others, they were genuinely happy to see us. Like we we’re Santa, James Bond, and Daddy Warbucks rolled into one. Actually most of them weren’t that pretty once I got a closer look. I didn’t care. A pretty hispanic girl in a glittery bikini came up to me and grabbed my crotch.

 

“Hello,” I said and smiled or tired to. I was trying to be cool and not in shock, these other stiff must have strippers coming up to them and grabbing their junk all the time.

“I like you dead boys, better then breathers,” She said. “They can’t fuck you guys can. You don’t stink like they do. They don’t have cash or snow. I’m May Flowers. You’r new aren’t you what’s your your name?”

“I don’t want to tell you....human,” I said I thought it sounded very cool and superior

“Ooooh I like that.” She said.

She was massaging my privates through my pants. I felt like I was 15, human and losing my virginity to that human housewife all over again, fear and lust twisting around inside of me. But I kept cool outside, no heartbeat to race and way to hyperventilate. I could see her breasts, they were round and smooth and large. Also her neck she had dull red scabbed over bite there. She grinned at me. I could kill her, I don’t even think she’d care.

“Ohhh I see you’ve met our spicy Ms. May here,” said Lem as he sauntered up. He had two girls hanging off him both blondes. “She works quick and tastes good.”

May smiled at him, no fear at all smell or looks.

He spasmed again. “Me I’m with Starla tonight.”

The girl on the left giggled and snorted. She wasn’t scared either. “It’s Starlight silly,” She said. “You are so silly.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You wanna get high?”

“Why is that like a question even?” she said.

Lem discreetly handed me bag and some cash he whispered. “You won’t get far without these.”

The girl on his right though, she was older, that face under the make up had hidden wrinkles and her smiled slipped for second. And you could see in her eyes. She was screaming inside. This was hell for her. The fear was coming in heaving waves. For a minute I pitied her. But heck if hated it  she so much why didn’t leave, dumb cow? I thought. The other customers the human ones they might as well be telephone poles to us. As long they kept out of our way. And they did. They just watched the girl on they stage and timidly slipped money in her g-string. The girls Jimmmy was with, scared as well and hated the way his hands were all over them. And now I can look back and be sickened by the whole thing. Now I don’t have dumb ideas floating around my head about vampires rightful place in the world, garbled nietzsche (which I didn’t even finish) and a stripper rubbing my balls.  
What happened? Well May and I went back to the VIP room which wasn’t much of a room. I paid her. She was a whore I guess, because I paid for sex. Well, it started as a lap dance. But she was the one who got very interested in me. It’s that way with some fang lovers they even throw themselves at Ersamo. Any vampire will do for them. Well I was all pumped in every way. So I started halfway through she grabs and says: “Don’t hold back, do me at vamp speed!”

So I did. We are the fastest thing on earth, and that woman had been fucked at speed so much she couldn’t enjoy sex any other way. She was screaming, shaking and calling sorts names. I just bit her like a ripe plum and sucked licked, drank second time wasn’t exactly hungry but damn I wanted to. She was done before me, muttering almost unconscious, I remember seeing the whites of her eyes when finally had my fill.

She just smiled rolled over and asked if I had any coke. I did. Not exactly good for blood loss. It was the 80’s and she was crazy as hell. There she was bleeding from the hole in neck and her crotch, she looked barely alive and she digging around in the baggy of coke. She also looking for a razor blade and surface to cut lines on.

She told me there was a razor blade in the room and made vague hand motions as to where it was. Off it to the left on a shelf. So I felt around and found it along with a hand mirror as well. It had a pink, plastic  handle and border like it was mirror made for little girl. The idea that this was taken from someone’s daughter’s slid across my mind in a dull way.

“Hurry up!” She called.

So I went over and put the mirror and razor blade in front of her. She was on her belly, blood dribbling from the the bite mark I’d made. Sludgy blood and mucus smearing from her cunt. The sparkly bikini she’d been wearing tangled on the ground like so much trash. Her face lowered to the freshly cut line of powder as she snorted it.  She did three lines and looked up at me, her eyes sparkling a manic joker grin on her face. She sprang to her feet and came to me.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on human?”

“I’m feelin’ great! Let’s fuck again!” She said speaking at double time. “Fuck me like a jack hammer on speed, Dracula!”

 

“No, bitch! You’re bleeding still. There isn’t going to anything left, you insides are gonna be bloody tatters!” I said.

“Fine, fine fine!” She said nodding her head very fast. “Okay, okay. Fuck my ass then!”

“What?” I said.

“There’s lube somewhere in here, get it fuck my ass and feed on me! You want to get taste of this, trust me! That’s why guys give us coke! I know that!” She said and she broke off laughing.

I had never done that to a girl. With a guy, there is no other hole, with a girl there is. I didn’t see the point. But this coked up stripper was bouncing around the champagne room like a  India rubber ball.

“Do I want to?” I said.

“Yeah you do!” She said. “You are going to! You know it!”

 

She’d gotten the lube from somewhere in the room. I had already gotten my pants back up from the last time and I wasn’t  interested in the idea at all mentally or physically. May did have nice curvy figure. And then she was there, she’d undone my fly and was on me. I could have stopped her. I didn’t to stop her. It felt good and right. And as my mind dissolved into pleasure and my hunger for blood grew. I made my decision.

“Get off and turn around,” I said.

She grinned, her make up at this point was smeared up mess. So I mounted her for the second time the evening. Durning the time I didn’t bite again, why would need to, when I had already? I just licked up and sucked at the wound I’d made. The blood now tingled on my tongue. And I felt a rush, energy and joy course me like fire in a warehouse. I licked and slurped up more of her blood, to get more the euphoria and energy, I needed and more it felt so good. I felt more then alive, like not when I was human again but as I imagined the Greek Gods must feel all the time. And so I did her harder and harder because that felt better then any sex I could think of at that point. She was screaming under me at the end and I don’t even know if she was enjoying it. But I finished and left her, laying there with the rest of the coke. And she was moving faintly towards the coke.  I cleaned myself off on her sparkly bikini.

“Thanks blood sack,” I said. Thank, thanks thanks! You are a good fucking blood sack!”

“emmmuhmmmm welcome...” she groaned in a voice  barely a mutter.

I zipped up. I was feeling wonderful, awake and ultra alive. Like I was on top of a mountain and the world was my banana full of appeal. Stupid humans all along they had just been so much like fuckable livestock, how I had not seen? I felt like dancing and running and I was full of joy. This had to be the best night ever. I walked back into the main room. Jimmy was on stage dancing with two girls. Lem was at a having two other girls make out on a table in front of him. And Sandcreek he was getting a lap dance from one girl she was close as sin. We were the princes of this land. IT was good, to be immortal, it was good to a vampire.

After the club we got on the choppers and road. It was cool desert night and the wind felt so good like heaven I was putting head into it letting it into my hair. Starlight was clutching onto Lem and laughing. Sandcreek had some brunette with him and I was on the back of Jimmy’s chopper. In the distance there was a red glow.  A broken triple beamed a blue neon sign said ‘oasis motel’. Only the first word was entirely burnt out. And the second one was half gone. The sign was covered with graffiti someone had crossed out motel and in below: ‘helltel’  someone else wrote: ‘we’d love to have you for dinner ..mmmmmm’  
and there was lots of obscene drawings. The below it said no vacancy.  
It had once been a motel, the weeds all grew high here. There were choppers and a big windowless van parked in front. The windows of the rooms had been boarded up. There was light coming from under the boards. And in the back there was cheering, orange light and the smell of fire. Sandcreek and Lem went off with their girls into a room. Jimmy took me by the hand.

“Come on, we got to see the Sergeant. You have to meet the man in charge you’re a  barely tiro still. Also Odd Molly if she’s not in the back,” He said. “Watching the show.”

He lead me past the motel rooms, I could hear the sounds of sex, tvs, music, and screams. Not screams of joy either. I went on until we got a big corrugated metal shack there were bits of motorcycles all around. It was a garage, there was the smell of oil and gas, brake fluid and anti-freeze. Humans and vampires working on bikes, sparks flying. As we got towards the back two huge humans with no apparent things to fix came out of the shadows right in front of us.

 

Jimmy looked at them coolly. “I have a new one for the Sergeant.”

“Leave us,” said a voice in the back of the humans.

And the humans melted away.

Sitting at in front a mini portable tv showing a fishing show, was a vampire. He had been turned when he was middled aged his hair was a light brown and short. He was a large man well muscled and very scarred, he had a scar above his left eye, there was grey stubble on his chin. Which if cared about he must have get rid of at dusk every night. But I guess he didn’t. His eyebrows were heavy and his expression was grim. He wore a t-shirt and overalls. And then he smiled biggest doppeyest gap tooth smile I’ve ever seen.

“I’m devil’s sergeant! Nice to meet ya!” He spoke with a southern accent.

I took his hand and shook it, his grip was strong but not overpowering.

“I’m Al,” I said.

“Al, I like that,” He said. “Not snooty name there. Good normal, hard working name. You worked in your life didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” I said.

“I can tell,” He said. “Jimmy drummer, thanks for bringing me Al here. Thanks for bringing me this vampire who we can teach a thing or two. You can go now, have fun.”

And Jimmy nodded and left smiling.

“Sergeant why do you speak with a southern accent, I heard you were from ancient Rome?” I said.

 

“Well, I’ve spent a good bit of time in the Southern part of this country, and it just stuck. I’m those who picks up the accent wherever I go. I used to catch hell for it when I was  alive. Used to come back speaking in whatever Latin dialect the locals did,” Sergeant said. “My mom did not like it.”

 

“Oh,” I said. I felt at ease with this guy. He didn’t seem like any very old vampire I’d met, more like some of nice men I’d worked for as a human. “Your mom, but you look...”

“Yeah I was 43 when I was turned. And my Mom had died earlier that year. She was one of the oldest women in Rome, I think,” He said. “Good woman. But we are not here to talk about our human lives. Those are long gone figments of the past. Times when we were weak and stupid. Now we have risen above that.”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“I’ve watched humans for little over 1900 years. They haven’t changed ever. Always fighting, warring, killing each other over petty differences like race, country, or faith. Now the stiffs on the senate will say it has never been this bad, this much. And they are right. However humans have always been knee deep in blood,” said The Sergeant. “We just kill for food mostly. And my plan is to build a army of vampires who think the same and take over this world, put humans in the place they deserve with  cruel pigs and violent apes.”

“Yeah,” I nodded at that time with his arm around me in a fatherly fashion it made sense.  This battle scarred veteran of a thousand wars knew exactly what he meant.

“For example poor Lemuel Babbcock, you know him as Lem. He was just the son of sharecropper. Left home at as youth to make his fortune. Now he had to bad luck to stumble upon the murdered body of a white woman. The folk in her town would have said she was no better then she should be when she was alive. But then when she was murdered.  Lemuel  made of the mistake of telling them he found her.  She was dead, all cut up and with her skirts up around her belly. They jumped to conclusions. He told that redneck sheriff again and again he didn’t have anything to do with that. But it was 1926 in Texas and he was 17 year old black kid. Lemuel didn’t have a chance. That night the mob came into the jail and dragged him out. They had rope, they had a tall tree. They were gonna get justice for a woman they didn’t even like in life. The whole town was there. They’d brought the little kids, and a photographer. They were gonna make postcards of it. Did you know they made postcards of it?”

“Yeah, I’d seen a few,” I said. I had they were still around when I alive and I’d travelled  up and down the east coast when I was breathing.

“Well Jimmy, Me and Odd Molly had just come to town. We saw the commotion going on. I decided that whoever this poor kid was, he needed us. He’d be solider if we got him down in time. So we got ourselves into the mob of dumb shit humans and we caused our own commotion. We flashed fangs, we used all the powers we could and Odd Molly and me we are old vampires. We have some scary powers. Those rednecks scattered like a flock birds. Took a few bullets but what’s a bullet? Jimmy cut down Lemmuel. He was almost dead.”

“Almost dead, doesn’t that kill you right away?” I said.

“No, your confusing lynching with hanging. Now hanging is much quicker. It’s done on a platform with a trap door. The hangman pulls a switch, and the people drop, their necks break. Now they do jerk around a bit, but that’s the nervous system giving it’s last gasp but they are dead quick. Lynching on the other hand is basically a slow horrible strangulation on a rope from up high with a bunch damn gawkers. I’d taken care of the gawkers. We turned Lemuel. Sad though, the rope had done damage to his mortal body you know his Lem. Thankfully the lynching didn’t make him a idiot but it had given him that and even the change couldn’t erase that. But hell he knows who saved him. And why he’s walking not in some shallow grave. He’s our soldier forever.”

“Yeah, I’ll be one too,” I said.

“Hope so Al,” Said the Sergeant. “I don’t like wishy-washy types. Now we have humans here. They know their place. Their junkies, we feed off them. There are ones who want be turned. They protect us in the day time and we make ‘em go through tests to see how tough they are if they worthy. And last their are the lovers, humans who are in love with one of us. Some of them want to turned, some are just love sick cows. If their vampire lover kicks ‘em they don’t get up they just moo and cry. They think we could love them, stupid and sad. The only mate for a vampire is another vampire. Not a were, though they tough, not mage tasty but dangerous and not any of the other weird ass things running around. Don’t delude yourself. Humans are boring and only good for food.”

“So That’s it you just ride choppers and run the army.” I said

“No it’s an army.” The Sergeant said. “More then that. We sell and distribute drugs. From a stiff I know Carlos in Mexico. He has every kind of drug down there. About a dozen of the thirty of my army go in shifts down there. We move them around here. Deal, whatever. Now they play well with humans. Charming fuckers. The junkies, they are like carrion flies. Once you have drugs they showed up. No one complaining lots of my soldiers like getting high, it’s fun and a junkie is almost always high. And disposable. Just dump the body in the desert and let the coyotes take care of it.”

“...about that what about human police and stuff.” I asked.   
“Couldn’t they be a problem? I mean your doing all this illegal stuff. They should be on your tail.”

The Sergeant laughed and laughed.  
“No problem there. The Sheriff wanted to do something. I came to his home, me, Odd Molly and about dozen others. His home while he was having dinner with his wife and kids. And then we gave him a escort down to the police station. He called all the top cops in the area. We sat them down and explained. That they will stay out of our business. You know why? They are only human. They have families with kids. In fact, lots of kids around here. And if any one them tries anything we will take some kids at random and make it slow and painful for their last hours. And tape it. Also if one those bright men wants to send for the army or FBI. Then we are legion. I didn’t tell them  exact number, but there over a dozen of us and we will make more. We are fast, strong and we can’t be stopped by normal means. One night we could kill nearly everyone in the area, including the kids. And when the FBI or the army rolls in the next day or two days. Everyone but the smart guy who called them will be dead, in pieces. That smart guy will be bug fuck crazy. And we’ll be long gone without a trace. The army, the FBI they won’t know what to make of it. Probably just arrest the crazy guy. So that’s what we told them and we made sure they knew we we’re serious. They got it. Now they let us be. And we let their kids be.”

He smiled again. I liked what he has just said. Other ancient vampires they skulked in the shadows and wrapped themselves in secrets. They hide from humans. But not Sarge he didn’t give a fuck. And that suited me to the ground at the moment.

“You have some great ideas,” I said. “I’ll proud to serve you, Sir.”

“Sir? I like you, Al. Good to meet you.” Said Sarge. “Run along, get out those clothes, get in something comfortable meet everyone have fun.”

So I did. I didn’t get clothes that night but I stripped off the suit jacket so I didn’t feel like such a loser. I found Jimmy, Sandcreek and Lem in motel room blasting AC/DC. The plaster in the room was cracking, the carpet was a nasty olive green and thick. Someone had painted a crude mural of version of a red headed vampire woman feeding on a dark haired man. I later learned it was a copy of a Edvard Munch painting called Love and Pain. For group who hated humans so much, they loved their music and art. There were two double beds in the room with yellow imitation velvet bedspreads on them. A light embedded in a swirling ceiling fan was on. Well one of the bulbs was still going, one was out one was flickering. Moths and other bugs were having their own party up their. Down below there was a smoking bong in the shape of a skull, a open liquor bottles. The record player was going. And in far side of the room the tv was on showing a hazy rerun of Taxi.

Sandcreek and Jimmy were sandwiched with the naked brunette stripper, she was stoned out of her mind. Laughing, and giggling as vampires groped her and fed on her. There was blood running down her breasts. Jimmy on one side of her neck. Sandcreek on the other.  
Lem was on dancing on the bed with Starlight. She had her back to him, grinding against him. His hands her breasts. She was giggling like a school girl. He was pretty good dancer, apart from the times his body would jerk like a marionette in a high wind. But Starlight seemed to like that, she’d grind him into him and hold grab his behind with her hands.

Lem looked over and winked at me.

“You know Starlight when I was alive, a black guy like me could get real trouble dancing with a white girl like you,” He said.

She laughed. “Really, trouble?”

“Yeah, serious trouble.” He said.

She turned around. “What would do to us?”

“You? Oh you’d get off easy, maybe a lecture from your Daddy. Or if you were knocked up. A trip to a ‘special doctor’ out town or the home for unwed mothers. And they’d hush it, make it look you visiting family somewhere. Me, I’d get called a rapist. Back then if a black man lay with a white woman it always called rape no matter what.”

“Really?” Starlight giggled, she thrust her hips into his waist. “This would be rape? What would they do to you?”

And she laughed, like it was a joke, a big joke.

Lem’s face got dark and serious. Starlight didn’t seem to notice. “Well, If I was lucky, I’d be sent prison right away. Maybe for 50 years. But Niggers who raped white women weren’t ever lucky like that. You know what would happen? A mob would burst in the jail, drag me out of my cell and they’d lynch me. Maybe set me on fire. It would be like motherfucking barbecue the whole town would be there.”

She laughed. “Oh, a BBQ, like BBQ’ed nigger?” She burst out giggling.

“I almost died that way bitch!” Lem said.

He grabbed her wrist with his left hand, and pulled her to him. And with his right he pulled open the collar of his jacket and down his t-shirt. There was mark of noose around his neck, rough and in places the scars were deep and still red. She began to scream. He he took her hand and ran along the noose mark over and over again.

“Oh, god! Oh god! Oh Jesus!” Starlight cried, all happiness drained from her face. “I’m sorry!”

“That’s what you white bitches always say!” Lem shouted. “Feel it! That almost killed me! But it’s killed so many more like me for less! For bitches like you! Since 1926 there have been so many white bitches, and they all say their so sorry. Well, sorry isn’t enough! It never will be!”

He popped his fangs, they were larger then normal fangs, I noticed almost a inch long.  Starlight was whimpering and looking around the room for help anyone. But everyone else, including her co-worker was watching and laughing. I figured her co-worker was stoned outta her mind and lost lots of blood.  Also I knew what went on in South my whole life. I never felt it was right. This just was sweet.

“Look, I’ve slept with you before.I like you! Why you gotta do this? Please let me live! Please, I’ve got nothing against you!” Starlight pleaded.

“And I had nothing do to with the dead white woman, I found. No! Shut up!” Lem ordered.

He pulled back her head, covered her whimpering, crying, mouth and tore her throat out. Gobbettes of blood and flesh hit the wall, spraying it.In its death throes, her body spasmed like his did all the time.

The brunette stripper screamed now, realizing how serious this was. But Jimmy pinned her to bed and began to kiss her violently muffling it.  Sandcreek living up a terrible stereotype gave a war whoop. Lem threw back his head, he laughed, he cried, he howled and roared. And then Sandcreek, Lem and I fell on Starlight’s still warm corpse and fed. Yes, I fed along with them. It was like a orgasm only outside of the body. I just had to feed, the blood and hunger was everywhere that night being around them made me feel more like a vampire then I had in five decades.

The next night, I woke up in one of the hotel beds. The tv was still on. Three of us: Jimmy, Lem and Me in one double bed. The brunette stripper was ripped apart by Lem, Sandcreek and possibly me, I'm bit hazy on that point. then I spent the evening fooling around with Jimmy and Lem, watching Doctor who and the ceiling fan. Now you may be wondering why so many vampires are bisexual, well according to Kinsey who was human and is dead. Most people are bisexual just don’t act on it. However when you are turned into a vampire many feel like mortal laws and codes of behavior don’t apply including who is proper to fuck. Hell, back before WW2 if you now had to kill other people from the get go, what was so wrong with being someone of the same sex whenever you wanted?  
Sandcreek was straight and didn’t like all that: ‘faggot stuff’ as he put it.

We got up. Sandcreek was watching The three stooges on the TV. I love Three stooges. So I joined in. Jimmy and Lem were in bed, and awake but not really wanting to move much. 

“Hey, Sandcreek did you put the corpse in the tub with the lye?” asked Jimmy

“Naw,” Said Sandcreek. “I want her scalp.”

“Shit,” Lem said. “Look, you get scalps of the blood sacks you kill.”  
“Why? You don’t want it,” Sandcreek said. “I want another blonde one. And you let me have the red head.”

“Yeah cuz you whined like a little girl.” Said Lem. “Shit my little sister used whine like that for my candy. She always used to get too.”

“I’m no little girl,” Said Sandcreek.

“Yeah you are,” said Jimmy. “And a liar. Al, has he told you how he’s one of the few survivors of the horrible Sandcreek massacre?”

“No,” I said.

“Well good,” said Jimmy. “Because it happened six years before he was born.”

“Fucker,” Said Sandcreek. “You know it happened to my people, the Cheyenne. And it was an atrocity. The US army soldiers 700 of them came along to a friendly camp of my people. They killed 163 of us. Women, children, unarmed men, and the old.  It was in the morning, no time for us to prepare. They cut the babies out of bellies of pregnant women. They used our private parts as fucking trophies. And this was in 1864. Not in your fucking textbooks, I’ll tell you that. And they called us savages.”

And I’d never heard this. I’d just seen Cowboy and Indian movies. Indians as the bad guys usually. Well not Tonto.

“Yeah but none of that happened to you,” said Jimmy. “Me and Lem we got worse stories about what happend to us. I was drummer boy in Vallery Forge. Went off to fight for glory against the Redcoats. You know what I found? That war is a sack of shit. There’s starvation, disease, and it was so cold my balls were hiding in belly. Then we got to fight it was hell. My friends were screaming and dying all around. What did they want me to do this whole time? Keep the beat. Not panic, and  there was the guy who shared his hard tact with me that morning was laying on the ground guts spilling everywhere, crying for his Momma. Heh. I wasn’t good at  that.”

“Yeah, but...” Sandcreek began. “They put in this boarding school. Took me away from my people and tried to make me like the white man. They cut my hair short, put me a suit, and beat me for speaking my language. It was brainwashing. It was the massacre of the soul. When I got out. I drank because I didn’t know how to be a Cheyenne and I knew I couldn’t be a white man.”

“Yeah but Odd Molly found ya and turned you.” Jimmy said.

“She did,” Sighed Sandcreek. “St. Odd Molly.”

“Lopsided Molly,” Lem said. “Can we call her that to her face?”

“Sarge doesn’t like it, But Molly doesn’t mind.” Said Jimmy. “And Sarge has a way of finding out what you say.”

Lem laughed. “He does.”

“So the dead bitch in the bathroom, we dissolve her and you aren’t getting her scalp. Get your own blonde bitch.” Said Jimmy.

“Damn you,” Sandcreek said and nodded.

He picked up a pillow from the other bed and flung at Jimmy. It hit Jimmy square in the face and burst in a explosion of feathers. Pillows aren’t meant to thrown with vampire strength or speed. Lem and I, laughed. Jimmy threw a lamp at Sandcreek. Sandcreek, dodged, threw another pillow. Jimmy threw one back. We joined in.  We started having a friendly scrap. It was all good fun. No fangs out. But man, we tore that munch room up. And each other. Broken bones, broken noses, bruises and clothes ripped to shreds. We’re all laughing like morons.  
And then the door burst open. We stopped.

There was a woman, tall, lean, homely. She had a pox face like a hawk. And her straight long dark hair was braided to her waist. She wore a hot pink tank top and black jeans. Two things were evident from that. First she had no right breast. Second There she was tattooed up and down her arms were tattoos of stags: their bottom halves turned into fish tails or something like that and their antlers had blossoms on them.

“Hello boys,” She said.

My three friends looked at her and a look of respect and awe came in their eyes. Jimmy bowed. Lemed bobbed his head and touched his forelock. Sandcreek just looked at his feet. They all mumured: “Hello Odd Molly.”

“Looks like my kind of party here,” Odd Molly said. “Nothing gets the blood up like a good fight. Between friends or enemies. A battle is best. But a friendly fight is good for the joy of it is great. I’m sorry to say that’s one thing that ‘civilization’ robs a people of. You get a house and laws and food. But no fights for fun. The watchmen never understand that.”

“Your Odd Molly?” I said.

“Yes I am,” She said. She came closer and circled. “You need knew clothes, Alwin.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked.

“Only vampire to join us in six months,” Odd Molly said. “Your clothes have been ripped to bits. Besides I heard you came here wearing a designer suit. You’d stand out like a North man in a Irish monastery. I have clothes. I don’t go in for ‘girly’ things. Where I came from that was for slaves and the lower class. And I wasn’t lower class. But it’s been my duty.”

“So you have clothes?” I said.

“Well we got our hands on jeans, t-shirts and leather jackets. By ambushing some Semis and five fingered discounts,” Odd Molly said. “We always need clean clothes. We tend to get messy and only have one washer and dryer. And no reliable source of detergent. Because the great Optio Caius doesn’t think it’s important.”

All three of my friends googled at her. “You said Sarge’s name!” Exclaimed Sandcreek.

“Yes, I did, my little one. I turned you and I know your names both of them. You were dying of TB in a sanatorium. Good thing I drained the night nurse put on her clothes and found you.” She said.

“You said you were a drunk,” I said.

“Well, first a drunk, then I got cough that wouldn’t go away. And I coughed up blood and I got worse. So the place I was staying sent me to sanatorium.” Said Sandcreek.

“They were great places to feed, not only did the patients cough up food for us. Most of them were to weak to make much noise or struggle. Also if we drained them, it was hardly ever reported.” Said Odd Molly.

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah loony bins too. I mean who’s gonna think a nutcase is telling the truth about a monster who sucks their blood in the night? Not the people who work their that’s for sure. I hear Ronny Raygun is shutting them down. Damn, they were great. Sleep in the sub basement in the day. Feed at night. Not anymore.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Said Odd Molly. “Let’s get Al in a new outfit. Stand up Al.”

I did. “Hmmmmm...” She said. “Well you’re about a little under six feet, I’d say. Maybe 5 10. Yeah we can get you dressed. First you get clean. All of you. Your blood and tatters. Sarge likes us to be clean. I’ll be sending around some of the blood bitches to clean. Not to eat. They just clean here. Eat someone else.”

 

“One problem Miss. Molly,” Said Lem, polite ans hy. “Ummm begging your pardon. But we got a dead human in the tub with some lye. We can’t use the shower, Miss. Molly.” He smiled nervously and spasmed.

She sighed. “At least you boys, tidy up after you eat. Some of these stiffs. I tell them over and over again. Why let rot here, when we have huge desert outside? And lots of lye and water in the motel? Some I think are sick in head, but most are just lazy. There are other motel rooms... we all share and share alike here. If anyone argues tell ‘em I sent you. That’ll get em quiet. Now Lemuel, James, Alwin and...Ge- Sandcreek you like being called that. I’ll let you get cleaned up. Al come see me after.”

And she left like that. We did go into another room. There were  three girl vampires there, having fun with a human teenaged boy. He was handcuffed to the bed, naked. Half frightened, half aroused. They’d left his very nice cowboy boots on. Jimmy asked if could have the boots when the girls were done. One them threw a pillow at Jimmy. It wasn’t hard enough to explode.  
We took turns in the shower as the vampire girls teased and fed on the adolescent guy. I turned on the TV and to my luck Duck Soup was on. I love that movie. I know I should have been paying more attention to what those girls were doing to that poor guy. I’m pretty sure that human boy didn’t want to be there.  
But I wasn’t... well... I wasn’t what I am today. I just wanted to get clean, get my new clothes and hang out with my new  cool gang.

 

So I got dressed in my cool acid washed jeans, white t-shirt and black leather jacket. Sarge built me chopper. And I’d watch the humans who wanted to be turned fight it out in the empty pool in the back of the motel. Our gladiator games. To see which human was worthy of being turned, sometimes we’d make them fight to the death, mostly see who got cut or beat the worst. We’d pit friends against friends, lovers against lovers. Sometimes we’d get one of the humans high on Angel Dust and have seven other humans go against them. Hose off the blood afterward. It was just one ascept of what Sarge and Odd Molly had humans do to prove they were ‘worthy’ of becoming vampires. I don’t get it. All I did was read a poem, talk about books and I didn’t read the poem all that well. Well then it seemed like a good idea, Sarge was giving us all that vampires are better then everyone nonsense. I learned how to ride my chopper, I fed from high human didn’t kill any, that I can remember. And the humans most of the time were on weed or coke. Once I did feed on a human who’d dropped LSD and that was well... different weird and fun mostly. Lots of sex too, sex with other vampires, sex with the human groupies who hung out, sex with the strippers. Once with Lem where we both were high as a mountain peak and I was on the bottom. Actually we didn’t have sex, we tried but we we we’re just to stoned. Mostly I hung out with the vampires who I met: Jimmy the drummer, Sandcreek and Lem. I knew the rest but I wasn’t close with them. Odd Molly and Sarge I’d grown in awe of them as everyone else. Odd Molly was older then Sarge, I knew that. Real name unpronounceable and her right breast being off wasn’t a horrible deformity or accident, but she’d requested it cut off when she was fourteen to aide her archery. But that so far back, even she doesn’t really remember.  


	6. Chapter 6

Anyways, It was 1987, I couldn’t tell the seasons down there everything seemed the same only sometimes we’d get rain and sometimes it would be hotter then normal. I was getting bored. I knew soon they’d ask to kill someone and to tell the truth, I didn’t know if I had the cajones to do it. I should kill a human, but I hadn’t. I talked the talk. But I hadn’t killed someone since 1943. Also I wanted to try heroin. I was to scared to try PCP and I figured speed was a bit like coke. I new we had three humans who were chasing the dragon. You didn’t see them much, they kept to themselves. One was the lover of 200 year old vampire she’d stand in the door way of the motel room they shared and screech at him for cigarettes. He’d make it clear he didn’t want to share her, odd because humans and their blood were supposed to be held in common no matter lies you told them. It was like he almost loved her jealously and that was not done, by Sarge’s logic a vampire could never love a human. The second was always getting high somewhere and then having two or three stiffs on them. And that was the limit if you wanted that junkie around, no more blood in the junkie if to many of us drank from her. The last was Pierce. I guess once Pierce had been handsome, but when I met him Pierce was a wreck, if you wanted a anti- drug PSA for High school. You could just put him on stage. He looked dead, a walking corpse: sunken cheeks and eyes, bones and veins visible under sallow skin that was covered with track marks, acne and liver spots. He had a mane of dyed red hair, fading to brown. He still made an effort put dark eye shadow on around eyes, eye liner on and mascara. Styled his hair in gelled spikes. He wore a ruffled poet shirt now three times to big for him, and pair of black leather pants that once were skin tight but kept slipping off. He smoked like a chimney, cliche but true. And talked with a rough croak.

 

“So a vampire wants to get high?” He said. “You don’t care what my name is, do you, it’s Pierce. In the village they called me Penny. Go on  hit me for my insolence. Doesn’t matter, you want to high and you need me shoot up first.”

He turned his cheek waits for me to hit him.

“No,” I said. “You are to eager for abuse.”

I tried to  sound like I was some older the dirt Vlad who knew the score because he’d played the game a million times.

“Good,” said Pierce. “I’m sick picking my teeth outta the dust.”

I handed him the smack. We went in the motel room he lived in, mostly him. The vampires who slept there durning the daytime were out partying, dealing drugs, terrorizing the locals, who knows. It was a mess, squalor and nastyness. He had a butane lamp and a spoon already, he cooked it up the needle sucked up the heroin. He rolled up his sleeve, smacked his forearm, tied it off with a rubber thing. And injected the drug. I watched as it took effect, he laid back a smile spreading across his face, pure bliss there. I bent over and opened an old bite mark on his neck, the scab was yellow and red. I licked up the blood. The euphoria over took me. Relaxing, sleepy, blissful, all I did was lay there and feel beyond happy.

“This is so.....oh golly... just whoa...” I stuttered.

“You like it?” said Pierce. “You aren’t an old vampire are you?”

 

“No, I’m not,” I said. “Just about in my 60’s really.”

“Heheheh, well that’s fine. I sometimes used to tell the kids in Castro I was in the Factory and hung out with Warhol. Total bull shit. But they bought it because I looked like this.” He said.

And we smiled. He smoked and stared at me with glassy eyes.  
I wasn’t addicted to heroin. I was addicted to Pierce. I wasn’t in love with him. I brought him, smack and cigarettes, he liked lucky strikes methnol. After three and half decades I still know that. I wasn’t in love with him. He physically repulsive and I wasn’t attracted to him. I just was his friend. Odd, you weren’t supposed to be friends with humans. Sometimes we got high, sometimes only he did. We watched movies. He was what remained of a twenty seven year old gay man. He told me about when he 12 hearing Lou Reed singing: ‘Walk on the Wild side’ on the radio and singing as well in school... how he got the tar beat out of him. He told me he ran away when he was 15 lived in the city for three years. It was great for him, though he didn’t really have any job that paid good money. But there were discos he could go to that were cheap, and he was pretty. And had some musical talent, He had a lover for few years. He thought he’d go far. Then his lover told him, he was to young and stupid. He got dumped on his ass.

All this came out in bits over three months.

“And then I moved out west,” Pierce said. “It was 1980. I wanted to make it big. I had my guitar and uh a dream. Thought well that cocksucker in New York would be shown a thing or two.”

“Yeah, what happened?” I said.

“I met a huge asshole named Brandon. Beautiful, with washboard abs, blue eyes, freckles and a cock that was at least nine inches. But more issues then you shake stick at. I met him my first night. He got in bar fight for christs sake. Brandon. The other guy gave him a broken nose. I felt sorry for him and played Florence nightengale. I mean to doing that  to him. Was like vandalizing the Mona lisa.”

“I’ve seen the Mona Lisa. Not all it’s cracked up to be.” I said.

“Really?” Sighed Pierce. “Figures. Well anyways, I had this hot guy on the sofa of my apartment, getting my new white hand towels all bloody and smoking my cigarettes. Drinking my Jack Daniels. He kept telling me how sorry was about the whole thing. He spotted my guitar. Asked if played. My roommate informed him, of course I played. So I did. He liked it. I kept playing. He kept saying he liked it.

“And that is it?” I said.

 

“Hell no,” He said. “He told me that he knew people in the industry and could get me recorded, get me contract. Looking in his eyes and after having amazing sex I bought it. Also let him borrow money.”

 

“Asshole,” I said.

“Yeah,” Sighed Pierce. “Love of my life for years. Cheated on me lied to me, and stole. Had a short temper. But God he was pretty and could make me think he was so sorry all the time. Also he had drugs, good drugs.”

 

“How many years?” I asked.

“Five years,” Sighed Pierce. “And he’s dead now. Wish I could find his grave and dance on it. No that’s not right.”

 

And that was last I heard of that for a month solid. Then we watched a bunch of movies together: Adam’s Rib was one, A Star is born another, Guess who’s coming to dinner, Bribe of Frankstien, Bringing up Baby and Plan Nine of Outer space.  
Sometimes we we’re o the nod sometimes not. Also I couldn’t always visit. The other stiffs would get suspcious if I hung out to much with a human.

And then it came out.

“I don’t when I got AIDS but it was either 1982 or 83. Brandon or a dirty needle gave it to me. I didn’t realize I had it until 1984. And I didn’t care. You see Brandon get me into smack. He was doing it and didn’t want to do it alone. Said the sex would be better. The first time, it felt like hell. But I kept at it and now I don’t care about anything else. I’m dying I think or near to it. I heard of this place in 1984. All the drugs you want, just run by weirdos who think they are vampires. It sounded better then dying in a hospital room to me.”

 

“What about your family?” I asked.

“Well they loved me for a while. They didn’t like that ran away. But I wrote a letter and they accepted that I came out. But don’t I think. I stole from them and used them, so I could get more smack. I stole my great-grandma’s heirloom silver at Thanksgiving last time and pawned it. Yeah I’m dead to them already. I don’t think they care what’s happening to me.” Said Pierce.

He knew I got kicked out of my house by Mr. Pelley. At that time, I had no idea about my mortal family and didn’t care about them or pretended I didn’t.

“So you don’t care we are vampires and what we do?” I said.

“Not really,” Said Pierce. “I know you fucking hate all humans and stuff. I know the deal here. I don’t care. I’m high and that’s how I want to spend the end of my life.”

He’d smoke and we’d talk. He’d tell about New York City in the village and Castro street in San Franciso. He told how he finally had to pawn his guitar to pay for heroin, how bittersweet that was. I touched him and held him sometimes, because I don’t think anyone had. In the last week of the third month, I only visited twice and the last time. I couldn’t bring myself to feed off of him. He was to much of a person to me. I was scared, if they knew what would they do to me? What would they do to him? With out his drugs, poor Pierce’s life would be hell all pain and suffering. And I knew they’d draw out is agony and torture him for daring to make me weak enough to to be his friend.

I didn’t have to worry. It was June, and I’d gone out with the gang to play darts at Rusty’s.  I stopped off on the way back to buy some wine coolers for a gaggle of run away teenage girls that had been hanging around the motel and a packet of Lucky Strike Methonal’s for Pierce.  I rode back to the motel. There was fire in the courtyard. I smelled burning flesh. Not unusal, I’m sad to say, it was a new thing in 1986 and 1987. I pulled up the bike. Took the wine coolers out the saddle bag and watched the rest of the army dance around the pyre.

 

“Hey what’s going on?” I asked Jimmy who’d gotten there before me.

“Oh one of the junkies is dead,” He said and took the wine coolers.

 

I went up to the pyre, the body was a charred unrecognizeable thing in the midst of the flames.

“How’d he go?” asked a human to her vampire lover.

“I don’t know... OD or something,” said the Vampire. “He had that fag disease.”

 

“Maybe that got him,” said the human girl.

 

And I had a bad feeling inside of me, sad and twisted up, like I wanted vomit. I looked over, there were other in army and various humans squabbling over who got a white poet’s shirt and a pair a black leather pants. It was Pierce, I don’t know what got him, whether he was drained by a greedy vampire, or he died from a messed up immune system, or OD’d or what. But he was dead. I threw the packet of luckys on the fire. I stayed with Sarge and his army, I didn’t know where else to go or what to do. My heart though wasn’t really in it. And then Darleen showed up.

There was this human guy who wanted to turned into a vampire. He wasn’t big, but he was burly stout and broad. Reminded me of a mean bull dog. Not a pitbull, no they are better looking. He had the face of bull dog. And a short spiked hair cut. All over tattoos, muscle and unpleasantness. Not to bright either. His nickname was Junkyard. It was meant to be an insult, that he was our junk yard dog. But he wore it with pride. However Junkyard because of a traumatic childhood, and showing the right amount of fake sentiment at the right time, got girls. They never stuck around. And they always mistook his silence for being stoic at first soon they’d realize it was because he couldn’t string two words together. Also he’d hit them. One of those girls was called Darleen. And I noticed out the corner of my eye. She was small and sweet, trying to tough looking with brown hair in a mullet like Cyndi Lauper all teased. She wore a jean jacket with lots of pins for various  rock bands and witty quips on them. She had a short leather skirt and pink fishnets and lace fingerless gloves. Lots of dangly earrings. Yes, very 80s. But it was the 1980s. And she was well when she showed she was 14, I think. I’d hardly spoken to her but I noticed her around: dancing, smoking, snuggled under Junkyard’s arm. She had a massive backpack covered with pins as well. Sunglasses in the shape of stars with leopard print frames.

It was August 1987 and everyone was down at Rusty Calhoun’s. A human woman called Spitfire was going to be turned later that night. We we’re celebrating. We had the place to ourselves I don’t know if Rusty had been told to clear the place or not, but there wasn’t anyone there who wasn’t part of Sarge’s army. Spitfire was doing shots. And everyone was cheering her on. She’d killed four other people to get here. She’d stolen, robbed, maimed and committed arson. I didn’t care at all. My group was playing pool. I drifted over watched, made comments, drifted away. And then I heard a sudden change in the music from metal to Pop. Someone had put on ‘Girls just wanna fun’  on the jukebox. It was Darleen and she was dancing. No one cared at that point. I liked the song, it was a change from the metal, hair metal, also any sort depressing thing you could think of that was played back at the motel.

I watched her dance, she was okay at it just bopping around, shimmying, jumping. She looked up at me and smiled. She had pug nose, but I liked that, also freckles on it.

“Hey, don’t sit and watch come and dance with me!” She called.

“Me?” I said. “I don’t dance.”

I trying to sound cool and indicate I was vampire and above such mortal things.

She didn’t get that. “Oh come on! Of course you do!” She took my hand, her hand was warm, I could feel her pulse in my palm. I looked at her and let myself be lead out of my seat to up to dance.

“I don’t know if I’ll be good,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter, just have fun!” She said.

So I danced and it was awkward at first. But I got into it and had fun, I smiling and I really liked watching her. And then Junkyard showed up. He took Darleen by the arm.

“Your coming with me. We’re going home.” He ordered gruffly.

“Oh come on!” She said.

“Home, Darleen.” He said.

“But the party is not even over,” said Darleen.

“Don’t care,” said Junkyard.

Now I knew Junkyard hadn’t wanted to come. He’d been beaten by Spitfire, second place. Not a vampire yet. Not good enough. He’d been sitting in the corner drinking beers and shots of vodka. Now he couldn’t touch me. But Darleen was going home with him. He had Darleen by the arm and he was almost dragging her out of the place. I waited and then I followed out into the parking lot. I stood in the shadow of the building and watched

 

She’d broke out of Junkyard’s hold out.

“It’s over! I’m sick of being bossed around by you! You’re no fun anymore!” She said.

 

“It’s not over!” Junkyard shouted he lunged at her and grabbed hold of her arm again. He pulled her tight next to him. “Listen to me, you’re mine. And you’ll do what I say. We’re going to get on my bike go back home and fuck. Whether you like or not.”

“We’re not, you loser!” Darleen said, she struggled to get away from him, but he had her tight. “You lost to Spitfire and you can’t even keep me!”

Junkyard raised his fist and knocked her to the ground. “Don’t say that bitch.”

He came towards here with prepare to kick her. But I couldn’t let that happen. I saw her helpless on the ground and I  didn’t want to see her hurt. I couldn’t let him hurt her. So I rushed at him and as he drew back preparing for his first kick I got there faster then he could see and held him back.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

“Leave her alone,” I ordered.

“Why do you care? You got enough people to drain, this is between me and her.” He said.

“Shut up, I’m making it my business so back off asshole!” I said.

“No. Fuck it, I’m sick of you blood suckers ordering us around,” Said Junkyard. “She’s my girl. I get do what I like with her.”

“The fuck I’m not,” Darleen said and got off the ground. “I’ll do what I want, Junkyard. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

He tried to get at her but I stopped him.  She walked away. I slackened my grip for a moment, just a moment and the bastard got away. He ran up to her and punched her in the eye. She whimpered and moaned. Sarge and the rest of the gang would have told me, not to care what happened to one human cow. But I wasn’t thinking I couldn’t stand to see it happen.  
I went up to Junkyard again, I tapped him on the shoulder and yelled: “I told you leave her alone!”  
And he punched me, in the face. He looked at his fist afterward, afraid and stunned at what he did. I was laughing for a minute.

“Go on!” Darleen shouted. “Show ‘em, show the bully what happens when you pick on someone your own size!”

I nodded and I hit him. I hit him again and again. I kicked him. He was pleading at first, but then stopped. He tried to get away, but it didn’t work, I was right there at the exit he saw: fists and feet. He was reeling and staggering like a drunk. There was blood at his mouth and his ears. He fell to the ground but I didn’t stop, I kept pounding until his head was caved in. Darleen was cheering and watching. I don’t know why, I think she had anger in her. I still have no idea why she laughed so much. I never knew much about her past.

I’d finished and I turned to her. My fangs were out, I was growling. She looked at me, she wasn’t scared at all. She looked at me like I was Sir Lancealot. Best look I’d ever seen a girl give me ever. Girls always look at me like I’m this kid who knows nothing and is nothing. Even if they know I’m a vampire because I have soft, round baby face. I look between fourteen and sixteen. I still get carded, have to show my vampire ID and they clerk always has to check for a pulse. But she looked at me like I was biggest, strongest hero, like I’d slayed the dragon. And then she ran up and she threw her arms around me and she hugged me tight. I wasn’t expecting that. My fangs withdrew and I put my arms around her. She didn’t even care that was bloody. I rested my head on her shoulder, she smelled like cheap perfume, styling products, soap, sweat and skin. I could hear her heart racing in my ears. But I didn’t want to eat her. I just wanted to hold her and kiss her if she let me. I didn’t want to anything she didn’t want. I wanted her to happy, bring her flowers and things. I was in love. It snuck up on me and now had hit me full in the face. She pulled back and looked me in the  eyes.

“We gotta get cleaned up,” I said. I didn’t want to admit I was in love and scared to kiss a girl for the first time in sixty odd years.

“What about the party?” She asked.

“Well, Sarge won’t care that I killed Junkyard, He’ll figure I wanted to eat you.” I said.

“Heheh,” She looked a little scared. “Do you?”

“No...I mean not right now.” I said trying to cover.

“Oh good,” She said. “What’s your name? I never caught it.”

“I’m Al, it’s short for Alwin George Bosch Jr.” I said.

“Heheheh I’m Darleen Rose Rudaski. From Sandusky Ohio.” she said.

“Oh, well uhhh... we lived in a town near York Pennsylvania.” I said.

“Oh so you’re American?” she asked.

“Yeah born and bred.” I said with a grin.

She seemed a bit disappointed. “Well, let’s go. We need to get cleaned up.”

So we went back to the motel. She held me around the waist as I sped down the highway, and it felt so right, like nothing had done before.

I’d had a room to myself mostly, well after Darleen showed up. I stopped letting others crash there. Nothing happened the first night. We watched tv one of the beds. Reruns of sitcoms, midnight movie Abbot and Costello meeting some MGM monster. She was wearing one of my t-shirts as a nightgown. She fell asleep and I tucked her in. She woke up and looked and me groggily as I lifted her up and put her in her the bed. I tucked the blankets under her chin. She smiled at me. I left her. Outside the choppers came back, I heard the noise of the army as it returned. I fed on some silly human guy who tried to get a feel in while I was drinking. I broke his hand for that. He screamed, whimpered and cried. I didn’t care. When I was done, he clutched his hand and looked so betrayed and anguished.

“Why? I thought you vamps were into...” he said.

“Learn to ask first.” I said. “It might heal, if you take care of it, human.”

 

“Hey!” It was Jimmy. “Sarge himself is turning Spitfire! We’re all watching come on!”

“Alright,” Sighed.

“Act like it’s important asshole!” Jimmy said. “Geez I wonder about you Al. You can such a pussy, sometimes I wonder why you are even here.”

“Okay, yeah,” I said.

 

I went. Spitfire who’s real name was Polly Sue Marston. Was being turned. Sarge had her down on the floor, everyone in the motel was gathered around in a circle, the yellow light bulb of the motel shown down on the indistinct room there were moths fluttering around it. She was laying in Sarge’s lap. He bent over her and opened her throat. She looked so blissful as he drained her.  Her eyes drooping. She wasn’t a pretty woman, she’d come up through the school of hard knocks, wrinkles, scars and to hide it heavy make up. Near the end her hands flew up, clawing the air, then fell. And then Sarge kissed her on forehead like she was his child. He smiled warmly at her. Then took his own fangs and ripped open his wrist. The crowd cheered as his dark red blood dribbled down his wrist. He put to her mouth. We waited, she wasn’t moving for a few seconds, maybe he’d drained to much. Maybe she was dead. There were uneasy whispers and stirring in the crowd. Someone laughed shrill and maliciously. And then her hands came up and she grabbed at Sarge’s arm and began to drink with liquid slurps and lusty gulps. Sarge let her drink for a good five minutes. Then yanked his arm away dramatically. She lunged for it, eyes bugling and face wild.  Sarge put another hand on her to restrain her. The crowd hooted and cackled. And we watched, waiting for the ‘blood poisoning’ a condition were a human is  fatally allergic to vampiric blood Fish people and their descendants are all allergic.  So we watched, if was going to happen it would happen in about thirty seconds. Nothing though she was still. And then the change started. Now that was traumatic even more so for all of the army standing around laughing, saying rude things and gawking. Her body writhing and sweating as her organs shut down, and died. Or as vampire blood transformed some of the them. The whites of her eyes went yellow at one point, then red, then back to white. I’d seen it with Michel. Odd Molly held Spitfire to her loop-sided chest and sang her a lullaby in a language none of us understood. Then came the vomiting, shitting and the worms crawling out. I left, no one noticed.  
I went back to the motel room where Darleen slept. I was so glad that none of the stiffs had fed on her or hurt her. I watched the tv until, dawn came, then I slept too. The night Darleen’s stuff was already in the room when I woke up. Her clothing, her make up and hair products, her music, all of it. She was jumping on the other bed in Magenta ruffed dress when I woke up. The Runaways were singing: ‘Cherry Bomb’

She smiled when she saw me wake up. I got on the bed with her and began to bounce on it. We held hands. And she bumped into me, at one point. She laughed and covered her mouth. And then she did it again, on purpose. And she kissed me. I put my arms around her neck and kissed her back. The bouncing slowed and the world slowed as we kissed on the bed.

“You are so cold,” She said. “It’s like being with a statue.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I only warm up when I feed.”

“No it’s fine,” She said. “Keep kissing me. I like it.”

So I did. Her lips were soft and warm and she was wearing  something that tastes very much like fake fruit. I was intoxicated. I could keep standing there and kissing her all night if she let me. And then she pushed me over.

 

“What?” I said As I looked up. She was on top of me.

“I want see something,” She said.

“What?” I asked.

“If vampires are ticklish!” She said.

 

And she dove right between my ribs and stomach. I am ticklish. I started laughing and I couldn’t stop. It wasn’t fair all these powers and immortality and eternal youth and I’m still ticklish. I fended her off always making sure through the uncontrollable urge to STOP THE TICKLING. To be gentle and not hurt her. I tickled her back, got her really laughing bad, I have vamp speed and it makes tickling really evil.

“Stop! Or I’ll wet myself!” She cried.

“Wouldn’t want that.” I said.

And I kissed her on the nose, giving it a nip no fangs just a normal nip. We started making out. I just would be happy to touch her. But she got on top of me and began to undress. She flung the ruffled magenta dress to the far corner of the room. Then her bra and panties. Then she undressed me. So I rolled over and I made love to her. I was made it good as good sixty years of this could. I was gentle and in control the whole time.  When she moaned, screamed and dug her fingers into my back, I knew I had done a good job. That’s when I let myself finally release.

I held her afterwards.

“You’re still cold,” She said even as she cuddled close, her body was warm and I could feel pulse in her skin. “That’s never happened. I’ve been with like six guys. And I’ve never... never…had an orgasm. Only with my fingers.”

“I know a thing or two about what to do,” I said.

 

“I bet when your like 200 or however old you are,” She said.

“200, naw more like sixty something,” I said

“Really, my grandpa’s older then you.” She said.

“But I’m better looking,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “You know my first time. It was so... well... weird... I’d barely started kissing. He was like in High school, I was 6th grader he was a friend’s older brother. I had such a crush on him. I’ve always been mature for my age. He was gonna drive me home. But we we’re talking about things. We went to get a shake. He kissed  me a lot. I liked that. When he asked, I said yes.  I didn’t really know... and the next day it was all over the school. He didn’t talk to me after that. She wasn’t my friend either.”

That was pretty much all I got from Darleen about her life.

I held her tighter and kissed her more. “If it’s any comfort. I was confused my first time. I mean the lady was like my Mom’s age. And back then there was no Graduate movie, to make us think of older women doing that. Or maybe that was just me. I was on my own, trying to sleep. She came in my room in this silk nightie. I thought maybe she was there give a glass of warm milk. But she sat down the bed and told me she was lonely. She put my hand on breast. I was so scared, but I wanted it. I just remember like being on a roller coaster. She got under the covers. Got me naked and inside her before I even knew. It wasn’t very long. It felt good, but was so scared the whole time. I thought God was going to strike me down. And I didn’t like God even then.”

“Wow.” She said. “Sounds messed up.”

“Yeah,” I said.

I took Darleen out for some pizza I bought her some strawberry wine later, she drank it as we sat under the desert stars, held each other and talked. Later when she was asleep, I fed and went off with the other vampires to bullshit that I was still tough and a monster.

Darleen and I had three years together. It was perfect really. Some bad and crazy shit would go down, it always did there. And I did some things which were pretty awful but all the vampires did. Darleen and I fought, she liked to shoplift from the local stores in the daytime, she liked to smoke cigarettes, drink, smoke weed a but to much. Also she got jealous of the strippers I fed off of. Even when I explained that I just fed off them and I didn’t fuck them or anything. But we always made up, I’d almost brought her around on the stripper issue. I was thinking of somehow leaving Sarge’s army. I wasn’t sure how though. I was pretty sure if I tried out right I’d be killed and so would Darleen. It was to brutal and I knew it wasn’t safe for Darleen or me. She was friends of the other human women and men: lovers of the vampires, ones waiting to turned and a few the more functional junkies.

That was were the problem was. One the vampires Jeremiah, who was about 200 had a human girlfriend Crystal. She was heroin addict. He’d always been oddly protective and jealous about her. I felt the same way about Darleen. However I used much more causal approaches to get my gang not to feed on her, usually distracting them with other humans that seemed better meals. But Jeremiah would get angry if anyone looked at Crystal and seemed hungry. Lots of other vampires had ignored it. They figured he just liked to get high off her blood. And then Darleen told me how sweet it was that Jeremiah had ridden off to the nearest city and stolen lots  of methadone. That Crystal was off smack and getting better. Vampires weren’t suppose to love humans like that, here. We were supposed to lie to humans and use them. If we did care we had to hide it and only say our love in whispers when no one else was around. But Jeremiah loved this woman so much he got dumb. And this story reached Sarge’s ears.    
Sarge had Jeremiah and Crystal dragged out their room. The rest of the army found the methadone in the room.

As they held Jeremiah Sarge went up to him. “I’m disappointed in you Jeremiah Merryweather. I thought you were better than this. You were one the first to join me. And you threw it all away for some unworthy short lived human slattern.”

As he said this Sarge’s voice was deadly calm.

“She’s not like that!  You don’t know her! Let us go! We’ll leave here and leave to your purpose! I love her! Don’t hurt her or I’ll---!” Jeremiah began.

 

“You’ll what?!” Sarge barked. “We won’t let you leave, you’ll go spreading tales about my army. I’m not letting you bring the vampire senate on me over some stupid human cow! Jeremiah, you’ll die tonight. What’s more she’ll die and it won’t quick. You’ll watch every second of her agony.”

“NO! NO! Please!” Jeremiah begged. “Let Crystal go! She’s done nothing wrong! I’m the one at fault, burn me! Tie me down and let the sun take me! Let her go! She can’t anything to you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sarge said. “She already did enough damage. She made you weak and dumb. She deserves it all of it.”

And they dragged the lovers off. I had to watch for some of it. All of us did. It wasn’t just a night. First Crystal was put through withdrawal, if it was hell to watch her shake, shit, shiver, cry, and see things that weren’t there. It must have been hell to go through. Then Sarge and others took turns raping her, about a dozen of them. Finally they tortured her. Sarge gave the orders for what to do, he’d been in the Roman army and on top of that seen 1900 years of cruelty so it was pretty awful. She was crying, and bloody and so sad. Jeremiah was made to watch the whole thing. They tied him to a chair with heavy chains, and kept his eyes wide open like in that Clockwork Orange movie. There were blood tears pouring down his face. When Crystal’s poor body finally couldn’t take anymore and died. They let him go. He cradled her and wailed and keened. I’d never heard such a sorrowful sound. And so many were standing around laughing, jeering and mocking him. They had done it the whole time. Jeremiah got to his feet. He was still carrying Crystal’s broken body and he ran to Sarge screaming a curse of vengeance. And Sarge took a stake plunged through his heart. Jeremiah’s body just rotted to pile of fetid stinking goo. A cheer went up, whoops and cackles. I left quietly. I heard later they burned both bodies. I made back to the room and I threw up in the toilet all that blood flushed down there.

Darleen looked at me, there was so much fear in her grey eyes. She’d had to watch some of it too.

“We have to get out of here Al,” She said. “We’re gonna end up just the same if we don’t.”

“Yeah, we are,” I said.

I hugged her. We both cried. I’d never been so scared since I’d become a vampire. We lay in the bed listening to her favorite song: ‘Time after Time’ we’d made love to that song countless times over the years.  I loved her so much, it hurt inside like dull ache. We’d laughed, we loved, we gotten high we’d fought and made up and everything about her was wonderful and beautiful.  I’d drunk of her She’d even tried to drink blood with me. That didn’t work. It was funny. Then It came to me. I’d turned someone before. Someone I knew for less time and for reason that wasn’t as good. Why did she ever have to leave me? Or me her?

“Darleen,” I said. “I’ve been thinking...”

“Yeah?” she said.

“I could make you a vampire, if you want.” I said. “But only if you want it.”

There was pause, I listened to her breathe for two minutes.

“Alright,” She said. “I’d safe and we’d be together forever, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

It seemed so perfect. I put on album with Time after Time on it. She took off her clothes, I took off mine. I made love to her as I drank her blood nearly all her blood. I felt her grow weak under me. Her last words before she passed out were: “I love you.”

I kissed her lips, I healed her neck. I took her the bath tub to begin the change. I opened the vein in my arm. Her grey eyes fluttered open and she drank. I felt so connected to her. So happy, everything was going so well. I was giving of myself to her in such a way. I let her drink for a very long time. And then I pulled my arm away.

She looked peaceful for a moment. But it went wrong. So wrong. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body began to shake and seize. Arms, legs and neck flailing around worse then anything. She wretched up all the blood she swallowed, a little at first then in a fountain. By then her face was a swollen mass and I could hear her heart skipping and palpating. She was choking, gagging her swollen face was going blue, it was all to fast for me to stop. And I knew I couldn’t. She just looked at me so helplessly. She was dead before I could think. Dead, limp, in that bathtub with my blood coating the walls. I sat there and cried blood tears. I’d lost her forever, trying to give her forever.

There was a knock on the door.

“Go AWAY!” I screamed. “I’m fucking a dead whore!”

It was the best thing I could think of saying before I went back to crying. Holding Darleen’s rapidly cooling hand in my own. Nuzzling her head with my own. Feeling alone, stupid and pathetic as a mortal.

“I’m not going away, I’m coming Al.” It was Odd Molly last person I wanted to see.

She came in all by herself. She was in a black gown head to foot, with a black hood. She looked like the grim reaper. She was the second toe the last person I wanted to see me like this. The second in command of the army. I’d be dead. Well, let me die forever it didn’t matter.

She looked at me and what was Darleen in the tub. She shook her head.

“Go on, tell Sarge. Tell him. Let him stake me or burn me, or let the sun get me. Let him take my head. I don’t care I’m gonna do it myself.” I said.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Said Odd Molly. “I made Caius. And I’m much older and wiser then him. I’ve seen this over and over again. Sometimes what you’ve done ends well. Sometimes it doesn’t like now. He doesn’t get that. I turned him because I liked the man he was. I left him on his own for to long and when I came back. He had some strange notions. Not the man I wanted to for eternity. But I’m here. I have my reasons. And I’m getting you out. You are not like the rest of the jokers here. You have something good inside still, you aren’t a monster yet. I hope you never will be.”

“What about you?” I said.

“I’m trying to get that back,” said Odd Molly. “It’s hard here. And tonight is as much for you as is for me.”

“I want to be left alone, with her.” I said.

“Yes, I know.” Odd Molly said. “But I’m gonna offer you this. A Proper send off your girl and a way for you get out here for good. She would want a send off and she’d want you to be safe. Wouldn’t she?”

I had to think. Darleen would want me to safe. And I did want to show her some respect.

So Odd Molly took a big windowless van. We cleaned Darleen’s body. We dressed in her favorite best dress. Odd Molly who despite ‘not being girly’ applied make up. And then she wrapped Darleen gently in a sheet. She put Darleen’s body in the van I sat in the back. And we drove out far into the desert. Under the mesas and stars, with the coyotes howling. Odd Molly and I gathered dry wood for the pyre. We also found some desert flowers. We put Darleen on the top of the pyre. Odd Molly added sweet scented herbs and things. I was a mess crying and shaking. Odd Molly told me it was my job to light the pyre. She took some desert sage, lit it and and hand it to me. I managed to light the pyre with it. I watched it burn until the sky grew light at pre-dawn. Now, that was dangerous. Odd Molly was right there. We slept in the back of the van under a tarp. The next night Odd Molly had gotten me a Chevy Nova from who knows where.  She handed me a two suit cases and cooler.

“There is clothes, money, pig’s blood in the cooler. I had credit cards made. You are now Jacob Ackerly. Keep driving North. You’ll fine once hit a big city. You might be fine in Phoenix but to on the safe side I’d say Las Vegas is your best bet the Master vampire there knows me and she’ll help you.”


	7. Chapter 7

As always I woke up just after sunset. The sky was already pitch black. I found Abby eating mac and cheese, reading a stack of tattered notebooks.   “What’s this?” I said picking up one.

She grabbed my hand. “Hey! That’s my second-best grimoire!”

I put the notebook back.

“But…” I began. “Shouldn’t it be a real book, not loose leaf?” I said.  
 She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah and I got a letter to Hogwarts when I turned eleven.”

“So?” I sat down. “What’s the deal with the notebooks?”

“There are published grimoires, but most of them are in libraries or in one the big schools. Mostly, a mage learns what their mentors teach them and writes he down.” She said. “And so these are mine.”

“So this is everything?” I said looking at the sorry, warped, and tattered collection of notebooks.  “No,” She sighed. “There were things they held back… things they wouldn’t say.”

“Why?” I asked.  
 “Incentive,” She looked down at the table.

I didn’t get it, something had happened to Abby, something she didn’t want to talk about. I let the silence hang in the air like a cobweb, hoping one of us would brush it away with words.

I did.

“Why? Weren’t they being paid to teach you everything?” 

“No…” She said. “My parents didn’t want me to learn magic, I ran away…and it wasn’t to school. No money and no scholarship? Then I ain’t getting in some fancy magic school unless I get one of those. Most of us learn from our mentors.” 

 

“If you’re parents didn’t want to you learn, how did you? Why did you?” I asked.  
 “It’s not that simple. The magical gift is genetic, no they haven’t tracked down the gene, but it skips generations.” She bit her lip as she spoke. “I guess I was the lucky one…and if you don’t want to do magic, if you don’t learn then bad things can happen. Demons love to possess unschooled practitioners, and worse happens, you don’t want to know. That’s why I ran away. That’s why I went to the Gwerders. That’s why I let them… do those… things to me…they said I had to pay my way, they said I was their student, and they could do that.”

She looked away blushing, hunching her knees to her chest and looked ashamed.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to…” I said. She shook her head and kept talking.  
 “They seemed so understanding, you know, when I met them online?” She said. “And I couldn’t stay with my family, I couldn’t … it was like being slowly suffocated.”  
 “So you had enough, and left?” 

“No.” She sighed. “They were going to kill me and eat me.”

“But they are…” I began

“Human, technically,” she said. “I was getting too old for them, I overheard them saying they couldn’t control me, and it was time. I found the ritual in his den… it was adapted from some Malaysian shaman…. Stealing the power of someone through eating their flesh. And I don’t think I was the first…”

 

“So you ran away?”

 

“More or less.” She shrugged. “I’ve been living on the streets for the past couple of months.”

 

“More or less?” I asked

 “They spent five years raping me and tell me it was what I owed them,” she lip her lip. “Manipulating me into thinking that it was normal, it was expected. They never taught me all they knew. I got away from them, and I know they aren’t going to be looking for me.”  
 There was strange look on her sharp, bird like features. She wasn’t telling the whole truth. I didn’t feel like pressing her.

“All right,” I said with a shrug.

She relaxed. I looked over at the sofa, it once been beige, now it was crusted with huge splatters dried blood. 

I sighed and picked it up with my left arm, dislodging years of lost coins and other garbage.   
 “Whoa!” Abby exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

 

“I can lift ten times my body weight.” I said. “Makes moving easier.”

Pesky eagerly pranced by the front door.   I put down the sofa sighing, picked up the cat and put him the bedroom closing the door behind him.

 

I carried the sofa out to the dumpster, Abby followed she was engrossed by the image. I smiled to myself, as she gasped when I tore it into five smaller pieces that I stuffed in the trash can. It’s nice to know I can still impress a girl. 

You wouldn’t exactly call Abby pretty, her hair was a dull dishwater blonde, her nose too sharp, cheekbones too low, lips too thin, her skin was pallid. She was too scrawny, and she was almost a midget. She looked like she was drowning in my old sweats.  
But there was fragility about her, a shimmer and shiver in her eyes. There was something that drew me to her, even though she wasn’t at all my type. I had to do right by this pathetic mouse of a mage girl.  
“So all vampires can do that?” she asked eagerly.

“No, for the first twenty years a vampire is just fast, very fast. Then comes strength, which grows with age, and the first hundred mind control, then other powers show up the older a stiff gets.”   “What other powers?” she asked.

“Flying, turning to smoke, all sorts,” I replied. “But they take longer and longer to show up.”

 

“Oh, it’s different for us,” she said. “If you can do magic it’s just a matter of learning control, spells, and stuff.”

“So what can you do?” I asked as we walked back to the door.

 

“Me or us magic folk in general?” she said with a smirk.

“Magic folk in general.” 

“We’re never sick, if we fall we don’t get any broken bones or injuries, we age slower and live longer.” She replied.

“Why?” I asked.  
 She shrugged. “I don’t know. Nobody ever told me.”  We were back at the door. I opened it went inside with her, and after I made sure everything was closed I let Pesky out. He sniffed us and gave me a chin rub. Then I went online to look at the ads for furniture. Someone nearby was offering a very classy green velvet chesterfield sofa for five dollars. I called the number, skeptical. The lady on the other end of the phone was gruff, but told me I could pick it up tonight.  
Since there is no way I could fit an entire sofa in my car, and it was pretty close. I walked there with Abby in tow. I read the address and look up, Riverside school condominiums. The building is an old school, it still has the wide, high glass windows and name of the school above the front door. It’s red brick, there is odd fence around the front black with huge stout triangular posts that look like it’s from some public works program from the late ‘60s that employed artists. The front though isn’t the way in, so we go around the back. There is a large parking lot that stretches down nearly to river. Also there is small pool here with a fountain. I find the number of the condo and I ring the buzzer. We are buzzed in. The lady who greets us is elegant, middle aged and slightly drunk.   
 “My husband is leaving me,” she said. “He told me to sell his furniture and give him whatever money I make from it. So I’m selling it cheap.”

“Nice one,” I said with a grin as I hand her the five-dollar bill.

“Are you sure both of you can manage this?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I say and I pick up the sofa with my left arm.

She blinks. “Oh you’re a vampire… that’s lovely.” She smiled.

I take the sofa down the stairs and carry it home over my head.   
 “You’re showing off.” Abby says smirking.

“Yeah,” I say. “Why not?”

The stockade streets are nearly empty expect for a man walking his pitbull further up the block. He doesn’t even seem to notice us.

At home it’s trickier to get the sofa in the door, but I manage. When I let Pesky out the bedroom first thing he does is rub against and give it a scratch. Abby settles on the sofa and I look at the time. I startle.  
 “I got go.” I say to her.

“What?” She looks surprised.

“Work.” I say.  
 “You have a job? But I thought…” She begins.

I roll my eyes. “Not all vampires are millionaires. Most of us have jobs. We’re, well, working stiffs.”

“I just figured you guys knew how to manage money. I mean don’t all of you have stocks and shit?” she asked.

“Nope” I replied. “Last stock I bought was Betamax, that worked out so well I vowed never to do it again. Can’t you mages make money appear out of thin air or ATMs spit out cash?”

“No,” she gave a frustrated sigh. “Magic money isn’t real money, and as for ATMs, banks already knew about magic even before we revealed ourselves… which is weird.”

“Hmmm interesting…so I gotta work,” I said. “Now excuse me I have to take a shower.”

I went off to the bathroom. What had I gotten myself into? What was Abby, 18 or 19 maybe? And she had no one or nothing? So now me, the bloodsucking undead creature of the night has to take care of her? Yeah, I guess. As I was thinking I heard the door open. I forgot humans poop. Good thing I put the shower curtain up. But when she flushed, and the water turned hot I screamed like a girl. 

“Watch it!” I shouted.

“Hey, I thought it didn’t bother vampires!” Abby shouted back.  
 “Just because it doesn’t kill us, doesn’t mean we don’t feel it!” I countered.

And then she left the bathroom.

I came out, went to my bedroom and changed into my work clothes.

Abby looked up from the TV and laughed. “You work there?!”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a steady job, and since it’s the night shift I can do it.”

“I never figured a vampire would work there!” she said.

“Well, I wasn’t always a cashier.” I sighed. “I used to be DJ.”

“Then…?” She began.

“.. work it out,” I sighed.

 

And I left. On the drive over, I remembered something. I’d re-stocked the shelves last night at vamp speed! No one was around but the security cameras were. I had to go to the head of security and fix this somehow. Resorting to violence would be the last thing I’d do normally but I might have to break a finger or a limb.  
Before I even clocked in I walked up to the office of the head of security. The name on the door says Briary Larson; I can hear the faint strands of the Grateful Dead’s “Fire On the Mountain” coming from behind the door. I gave a knock and a voice says: “Come in,”

Briary Larson was a large, lanky, goofy-looking fellow with long wavy brown hair, heavily lidded eyes and an overbite. He had headphones looped around his shoulders. He was grinning when I entered and his grin only widened when he saw me. 

“We need to talk about something,” I said.

He smiled and said: “You bet we do, I saw the footage from last night. You were a blur.”

 

“…then you know,” I sighed.  
 “You’re a vampire,” he said with a glitter in his eye I didn’t like. “You could get fired if it gets out.”

“It’s not going to get out.” I replied.

“What makes you so sure?” he said with a wink.  
 “Because you aren’t going to let it get out.” I growled and let my fangs slip.

And then he did something odd, he giggled. “Are you threatening me, Alwin?”

I blinked. He shouldn’t giggle; he should be terrified. I could rip his arms off, I was faster and stronger then this idiot. So why wasn’t he scared?  
Suddenly his face began to lengthen, his hair turned to a brown coat of fur and his ears became longer and longer. His arms stretched down to into paws, his legs became haunches long and strong. And there was weird feeling in the air, like the taste of red or the smell of ozone. I blinked and the gigantic rabbit, that had been Briary Larson blinked back at me.

“A wererabbit? You’re…. but they aren’t supposed to…” I said I shook my head. “Fine, I’ll kick your ass just the same.”  
I lunged, but he was faster—teeth, claws and vicious back kick caught me in the face and stomach. I couldn’t murder him here so I was holding back. That was my mistake. He wasn’t, and he bounced back at me kicking and biting.   
If this happened again I wouldn’t be able to heal in the bathroom in time for work. I couldn’t hurt him to bad, It would raise questions…

I sighed. “Fine then Bigwig, what do you want?”   
He changed back to his human form a little disheveled, but smiling that awful smile.  
“I want one hundred fifty dollars starting tonight.” He said. “To keep your fang-y secret under wraps.” 

“I… don’t have that kind of…” I begin, but who would buy that were-rabbits are real? I looked at his dopey face. “All right!”

I go to the staff bathroom and use my own blood to heal the scratches. Then I go to the ATM and get 150 dollars. I hand to him before I go and clock in. He grins. 

“Thanks, you just have to do this every week.”  
  “Goddamn wererabbit,” I mumble to myself.   
 The worse part, people think all sorts of therianthropes exist from Werewolves to Were-Komodo dragons but not were-rabbits, why, because they aren’t ‘dangerous’ or predators.   
I’d get laughed for telling Sky I got beaten up by a were-rabbit? 

That should have been my only surprise that night. But it wasn’t. 

It was at the end of my shift, I was the only one on a register. I was nearly the only one in the store. It was three am and I was texting my friend Scarlet under the register. Then I got an odd feeling, a queasy, hard, weird feeling. There was something or someone looking at me, a dark, and old someone. I turned my head and standing in the darkened corner of store was a looming figure in a trench coat. He was much taller than me with broad shoulders, a dark mop of hair, heavy brows and a brooding expression on his face as he stared at me. Other vampires can feel the very old ones, the ones over 2000 years old. They seem to have a psychic presence. For example I know when Sky is the room even if I can’t see him. But this was different; this was malevolent, this vampire meant me harm. I didn’t even know why.


	8. Chapter 8

~~~~~~~~~Chapter 10~~~~~~~~

He continued staring at me for the next hour, until my shift ended. The odd thing was no one else noticed it. Not my co-workers, or the trickle of customers that came through. I was feeling so tense by the end of that hour you could string a violin with my nerves. And then just before my shift was over, the pall lifted, I looked up and he was gone. I clocked out, at first I felt so relieved by that creep going that I wanted to whistle. However before I could pucker my lips, the song in my heart died. There was that same stiff standing outside by my car, waiting just waiting. 

“Alwin,” He spoke in a rich bass voice. “I need to talk you, on behalf of my mistress Fulvia Territia.”  
   
Fulvia Territia?! She was the second richest vampire out there! What does she want with me?! She owned Fortuna Lending and I took a loan to buy my casket…

“Hey I thought I was all paid up on my loan!” I squeaked.  
 He gave me a puzzled look then he broke into a smile and began to chuckle. “No, no, it’s not about that trivial matter. I am Melegar, the first to be turned by my mistress and her chief lover. I’m here to ask you about Michael   
Kóbor.” 

“Who?” 

“He also goes by Mikey, Manual, Mihai, and Michel, “He said.

The penny dropped. “Michel?”

“You made him right?”  
 “What’s he done?”

“He murdered a fellow vampire, a lover of my mistress.”

“Aren’t you her lover?”  
 Melegar’s scowl deepened. “My mistress has many lovers; we are privileged to share her favors.” 

“Anyhow, he only kills Nazis—“ I began.

“ ---Old political leanings mean nothing to my mistress. Hans Gabler was charming, handsome, witty, and ten times the vampire that scraggly street rat you turned.”

“Look I haven’t seen him in over sixty years, I have no idea what he’s been doing.” I said.   
And he’s not a street rat! I thought.

“He sends you letters,” Melegar said darkly.  
 “Well, not lately,” I sighed. “Look, you probably don’t buy it, but I have no idea what he’s been doing or where he is.”

“We are scouring all seven continents for him. My mistress will have her vengeance.”

“Even Antarctica?” I asked.

“You think you’re funny. But if you are lying, if you know where he is, I will make you suffer beyond anything. You’re death will not be slow or easy,” he rumbled.

“I’m not lying. I have no idea where the gypo bastard is.” I said.

“This is your first chance, Alwin. You and your little mage girl will die if I find you are lying.” He said. 

“Abby? This has nothing to do---“

Then with a whoosh he was gone, and I was standing in an empty parking lot, with three hours till dawn. 

Shaken, I drove back to my apartment.   
Abby looked up when I came in. I found Pesky and sank my hand into his soft fur, it gave me comfort and began to feel better.   
 “There was another vampire came by when you left,” she said. “Asked to come in, I didn’t let him. Was he a friend of yours?”

“Big, dark nasty fellow with the voice. No. Not him. But we’ve met.”

I went to get a carton of blood from the fridge.

Abby continued talking: “No, he wasn’t big sounded foreign He was more of a short, skinny, guy with a nose and a leather jacket. Said he was a friend of yours, said he needed help. But I sent him packing.”

I stood there the door open staring at the cartons of blood and then I began to curse.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this as far I got.


End file.
